


Tabula Rasa

by lucyisalive



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: (for now at least), A little bit of angst, Amnesia, And also utterly clueless, Bisexual Sylvia Tilly, Bullshit Science, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hints of Mylvia, Hugh and Paul are hopelessly in love, Humor, M/M, Mystery, POV Alternating, Second First Meetings, Team Bonding, Team Science! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyisalive/pseuds/lucyisalive
Summary: The crew of the starship Discovery wake up to find that they have lost all memories of their past. Having no idea who they are or what they mean to each other, a doctor, two scientists and an engineer must work together to try and reverse the process before it’s too late. But two of them can’t seem to take their eyes off each other…





	1. Who am I?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Tabula Rasa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554862) by [lariatta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lariatta/pseuds/lariatta), [ST_Discovery_20XX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ST_Discovery_20XX/pseuds/ST_Discovery_20XX)



> Welcome to my new story! The premise of this fic is similar to the TNG episode ‘Conundrum’ – the crew gets amnesia, but only lose memories of personal experience (i.e. they still have all their knowledge/skills). It’s also similar to the episode of Buffy ‘Tabula Rasa’, from which I have borrowed the title. It’s set sometime in the first season, before the jump to the mirror universe. Enjoy!

She opened her eyes.

_Where am I? I don’t know this place… I don’t know… How did I get here? Where_ is _here?_

All good questions. Although they paled in comparison to the next one.

_Who am I?_

Yes, that seemed more important.

_Who am I?_ No answer.

_What is my name?_ Still nothing.

_Where did I come from?_ _Why can’t I remember anything?_ _What am I? What happened to me? Who am I? WHO AM I?_

_I am lying on the floor._

She was so relieved to have a thought that wasn’t a question, to know something for sure, she latched on to it with everything she had.

_I am lying on the floor. On the floor in a room with four walls, two beds, a door at one end. I am alone. It’s quiet – I can only hear a faint humming all around. I am wearing clothes. They’re tight, dark blue. There are windows, and outside the windows I can see stars._

She made an inventory of the things she knew. Floor. Room. Wall. Bed. Door. Alone. Quiet. Hum. Clothes. Tight. Dark Blue. Window. Stars. Each one of those things meant something, it called an image to mind.

Mind. There was another one. She had a mind.

Slowly, she sat up, trying to take notice of any pain. _If I feel pain, that could indicate I’ve been injured. That humming I hear is probably from machinery of some kind. Those stars I see are generated by fusion reactions many light years away._

She pushed her mind out further. Called to mind images of solar systems and planets. Oceans, forests and mountains. Day and night. Plants and animals. Cities, houses, roads and skyscrapers. And people. So many different kinds of people. An entire galaxy, filled with the infinite diversity of life.

She counted to ten and found that she could do it in several languages, though she didn’t have names for any of them. Still, she recited alphabets of all those languages in her mind, finding the one that came most naturally to her.

She began to remember a slew of knowledge. _Pi is equal to 3.14159265. The speed of light is 299,792,458 metres per second. The conversion ratio between mass and energy is the speed of light to the second power. The speed of sound…_

And on and on. But none of it brought her answers to that all-important question.

_Who am I?_

So, she had some kind of amnesia? She was pleased to remember a word for it.

Some instinct told her that she ought to be afraid. But a stronger instinct told her that fear was illogical, and would not help her in this situation. She had to be methodical. Solve the problem.

Rising to her feet, she took in her surroundings more carefully. Both beds looked identical and were made tidily. On each pillow was some kind of insignia, an oddly shaped sort of arrow, overlaid with words.

_U.S.S Discovery._

Looking out the windows, there was no horizon, no land, no features. Just more stars, stretching to infinity.

_Space. I am in space. A starship? Or some kind of space station? Am I a member of the crew?_

Steeling her nerve, she walked to the mirror at the back of the quarters. A young, dark-skinned woman looked back at her. She looked about 5 feet tall, with short, dark curly hair and brown eyes. Her clothes looked like they could be a uniform – dark blue all over, except the silver stripes which ran up both sides and over the shoulders.

She was relieved that she could find a name for her species. _Human. I am human._

But that was it. There’s was nothing else in the quarters that could tell her who she was or what her purpose was. Clearly, she would have to seek answers elsewhere.

She walked towards the door tentatively. It opened automatically, and she stepped out into a corridor with walls similar to the quarters behind her. The corridor was slightly curved, so she could not see far in each direction. The section she was in was deserted, but she thought she was starting to pick up noises above the humming of the ship – cries and shouts of alarm and anger.

As the door closed with a faint _whoosh_ behind her, she turned around instinctively. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the lettering written on the middle of the door. Two names:

_Sylvia Tilly_

_Michael Burnham_

 


	2. Hollow

She hadn’t said anything. They had both regained consciousness at about the same time, and were now staring at each other from across the room. She was still on the floor, in front of a computer console, sitting with her hands clasped tight around her knees. Panic was visible in her eyes, but still she said nothing.

The man wondered if she remembered nothing too. If she was feeling so  _ empty _ , just as he was.

She was very young, that much was clear. She had fierce red hair which seemed to be straining against the neat bun she had tied it into. Her face was round, and looked like it could be kindly if it weren’t so distorted with fear.

Figuring that one of them had to speak up eventually, he cleared his throat nervously.

“Uh… do you remember anything?” His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him.

With his words, it was though a spell had broken. The young woman sighed in relief, and immediately launched into a torrent of speech.

“No, I don’t remember anything, or at least I do remember some things, but nothing about me or where I’m from and I have no memories of my past or how I got here but I do have knowledge about things so it’s not like I have the mind of a new-born or anything I just don’t know how or when I got that knowledge and it’s really confusing and I’m kind of freaking the fuck out and…”

“Slow down for fuck’s sake. Don’t panic.”

_ At least we both still remember how to talk. And curse. Thank god. _

The woman was now staring at the ground, seemingly embarrassed by her outburst.  

“Okay,” the man continued “it seems like we both have some kind of… selective memory loss. We should probably try and find out where we are…”

“We’re both wearing the same clothes!” the woman blurted out suddenly.

“Uh, yeah that’s a good point.” They were indeed both wearing the same blue uniform. “I guess that means we’re part of the same… team?”

Strangely enough, the matching clothes were making him feel better. It felt like solid proof that he’d had some kind of existence before this, that he wasn’t some new creation dropped into a hollow shell of a person.

Yes, the hollowness was awful. But more than that, it was  _ confusing.  _ To have no context, no memories, and yet still have  _ substance.  _ And knowledge. Quite a lot of knowledge actually. Especially about…

He looked down at the station console in front of him and found to his surprise that he knew how to work it. The information displayed above all brought all the pieces of his seemingly vast intellect together.

_ Prototaxites stellaviatori. Mycelium. The mycelial network. _

_ The veins and muscles that hold our galaxy together. _

“I understand all this…” the red-haired woman said in astonishment. She had likewise gone to a station and was scrolling through the data in front of her. “How can I know something and… not know how I know it?”

“I’m not sure,” the man said, “but we need to find out what’s caused this memory loss, and we need to find out where we are. We should probably…” He gestured to the door at the other end of the room.

Before either of them could move towards it however, a voice suddenly spoke out around and above them.

_ “To anyone that can hear this message. You are on a starship called the USS Discovery. This is the bridge speaking. We believe that something has happened that has caused us all to forget who we are. We ask that all personnel immediately report to the cargo bay at the bottom of the ship so we can attempt to determine what has happened and find a solution You can view the ship’s schematics from any computer terminal. If anyone is unaffected by this phenomenon, please respond to this message immediately. Bridge out.” _

The man and the woman looked at each other, slightly alarmed.

“We’re on a starship? In space?” said the redhead, nervously.

“I guess that explains the uniforms,” the man muttered, pulling up the schematics on the station in front of him. “The cargo bay is nearby, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @30MinuteLoop for beta reading


	3. Logical Questions

When the woman arrived in the cargo bay, there were already over 100 people there milling around, no-one saying much. They were all different species, though quite a lot of them were human, like her. They were all wearing a variation of the same blue uniform, the only difference being in the gold or silver on the sides. The only exceptions were a group of people all standing together, whose uniforms were bright white.

There was a palpable tension in the air, and nervousness showing in various degrees in all the faces around her. If the person she’d heard over the intercom had been correct, then none of these people remembered who they were either. Although perhaps she was close to knowing something about herself that they didn’t.

Sylvia Tilly? Or Michael Burnham? If those had been her quarters that she woke up in, then one of those names must be hers. She spoke each name in her head, trying to find some recognition in either one. But there was nothing.

At that moment, two people arrived in the cargo bay, one human, and the other a tall alien humanoid. _A Kelpien_ , the woman thought to herself _._ Clearing his throat to attract attention, the human addressed the assembled crowd.

“Thank you for coming down here. We’re sure you’re all very confused, and we share your confusion, but we ask that you remain calm, and we’ll try to solve this problem together.”

“Do you know why we can’t remember anything?”

The woman turned around to see who had spoken. It was a very pale-skinned man, with blond hair. Standing next to him was a red-haired woman who looked young enough to still be a teenager.

“No,” the man at the front replied, “we’ve had the computer scan the ship’s life support systems for any substance that might have triggered this, but it couldn’t find anything. Our next course of action should be to find a medical cause.”

“Perhaps we can help with that?” One of the people in white had spoken up. She was small, and looked nervous, but her voice was steady. “We’re doctors,” she said, gesturing to the group behind her.

“How do you know?” the man at the front asked, sceptically.

“We all woke up together, in a room that resembles a hospital bay and we all seem to have extensive medical knowledge, it seems like a logical deduction. If it’s helpful, I believe we could run neurological scans of all the people here, to try and find the cause of this.”

“Will it take long?”

The woman shrugged. “About a day, if we start now.” There were nods of agreement from the doctors behind her.

“Good,” the man at the front said, “then everyone here is ordered to report to that sick-bay on a schedule to be decided by the doctors.”

“Ordered?” the pale man spoke up again, sounding sceptical. “No offence, but who exactly put you in charge?”

The tall alien standing next to the man spoke up for the first time. “When we all became conscious on the bridge, this man was sitting in the chair at the centre of the room, presumably the captain’s chair. I think it is a fair assumption that he is the captain.”

“And for that reason, we’re going to do anything he says?”

“Yes,” the human captain said, his tone leaving no room for argument. The pale man held his gaze for a few moments, before looking away.

“However, if you have any suggestions on how to proceed, I’d be happy to hear them,” the captain continued, with an air of diplomacy.

“Surely the computer has personnel files we can use to find out who we are?”

“We’ve checked, but all the files stored in the ships systems have been locked behind security firewalls.” The captain rolled his eyes before continuing, “and unfortunately, none of us can remember our access codes.”

“Can’t we call for help?”

“Given the situation, I am unwilling to reveal our position by sending a signal. We don’t know whether there are hostile forces out there waiting to take advantage of us.”

“Have you scanned the space around the ship to see if there are any spatial or temporal anomalies that might have caused this?”

The captain raised his eyebrows. “Are you familiar with any ah…  _ spatial anomalies _ that could have had this effect?” He couldn’t quite hide the note of condescension in his voice.

The pale man scowled. “You asked for suggestions.”

“And I will happily take them under consideration. For now, you all have your orders. Dismissed.”

The woman perceived the bustle of movement that immediately followed the captain’s words with interest. The speed and efficiency with which the crew-members moved to obey orders solidified in her mind the certainty that this was a military vessel of some sort. Discipline and controlled calm were displayed on the faces around her, and she knew that all these people would follow the captain unquestioningly. With one very notable exception.

The woman began to move through the crowd towards the place where the pale man had been standing. She couldn’t say exactly why she was drawn to him, but the questions he had asked the captain had been logical, and something within her felt a deep respect for a logical mind. By the time she got there, however, she could only find the red-headed woman standing still, wide-eyed, seemingly frozen to the spot.

“Hey. Where’s your friend?”

The red-headed woman blinked in alarm a few times.

“Um… I’m not sure? He just took off, I don’t know why, he didn’t seem too happy… uh, I don’t think he likes the captain very much. Anyway um, it’s nice to meet you! My name’s…”

She stuck out her hand to shake as she said the last part, before breaking off as realisation and embarrassment clouded her features.

The gesture was so delightfully endearing, it made the woman smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she said, and she meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @30MinuteLoop for beta reading


	4. Second First Meetings

The man really didn’t see the point of this.

So far, over seventy-five people had had their brains scanned to try and find the cause of this collective amnesia, and absolutely nothing had shown up. So how was forcing him to have the same scan worth anyone’s time or attention – especially his?

Besides, he may not know who he was, but he’d pretty much figured out that his brain was worth something, and he didn’t want just anyone poking around in it. Especially not someone who couldn’t even be sure they  _ were _ a doctor.

Still, apparently, he was supposed to follow the  _ captain’s _ orders, if that’s really who he was. So it was in no cheerful mood that he entered the part of the ship that people had deduced was the sick bay.

“Hey, I’m here for the scan,” he announced to the nearest person, a female Andorian.

“There’s a doctor over there,” she replied, gesturing to the end of the room.

_ You mean someone you  _ think _ is a doctor _ .

Walking towards the bio-bed at the end of the room, the man warily eyed the person, the  _ stranger _ , who would soon be entrusted with the machines messing around with his head. They had their back to him, looking down at a PADD in his hand, presumably looking over the results of the last scan. They turned around at the sound of the man’s footsteps.

_ Oh. _

“Hello,” the doctor said, in a warm, amiable voice.

“Hey,” the man replied.

There were a few awkward moments of silence as both men took in the person in front of them.

“Sorry,” the pale man said, averting his eyes. “I guess this is the part when I’d usually introduce myself, but…”

“It’s okay,” the doctor chuckled softly. “That’s been happening all day. Why don’t you come and make yourself comfortable?” He indicated the bio-bed behind him.

As the man lay down, he stole another glance at the doctor, who was now walking round to the machinery at the head of the bed. He was human too, but darker skinned than himself, and wearing a white uniform which was both hiding and revealing an attractively toned upper body. He had brown eyes, and a short-trimmed beard which perfectly accentuated his jawline.

_ He’s… beautiful. _

Shocked at that unbidden thought, the man chastised himself for getting distracted.

“So how are you feeling about the scan today?” the doctor asked.

_ Oh, you’re going to be sorry you asked me that… _

“Great. Totally thrilled. I mean who  _ wouldn’t _ want a stranger with amnesia who may or may not be a doctor messing around with an organ that’s vital to their survival?”

If the doctor was perturbed by his rudeness, he didn’t show it. “Well, I’ll do my best not to damage the parts essential to your survival,” he replied, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “But don’t get  _ too _ attached to your frontal cortex.”

The man scowled. Sarcasm was much more tolerable when he was the one doing it.

“I just don’t see the point, that’s all,” he said bluntly. “I mean… I’ve seen the first results. I know you haven’t found anything. So why waste more time?”

“You’re right, we haven’t found anything yet,” the doctor said, matter-of-factly, still not sounding remotely offended, “but it’s still useful to have all the data possible for the medical computer to work on. Maybe with enough data, it can find a pattern.”

The man had to admit that that was a good point, but was unwilling to concede as much to the doctor. Still, the other man seemed to read it in the stony-faced silence that followed, and he smiled, showing brilliant white teeth.

_ He’s even more beautiful when he does that… _

_ Pull it together, damn it. _

“So, have you been able to figure out what you do on this ship?” the doctor asked. As he spoke, he tapped on his PADD, and the machine above the man’s head lit up.

“Scientist. Astromycologist specifically. I think.”

“Space mushrooms?”

“It’s probably a little more complicated than that.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well…  _ I’m _ the one working on it.”

The doctor laughed “Are you pretty clever then?”

“Yes. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m a genius.”

“Hmm. I was just wondering what this large cluster of neurons in your cerebellum was…” the doctor said, tapping on the PADD again. “I guess we can deduce that it’s your  _ ego _ .”

The man scowled again, mainly to prevent himself from smiling. “That’s not how the brain works.”

“And I’m sure you’d know. Being a  _ genius _ and all.” The doctor looked at him, his eyes sparkling with merriment.

And the man couldn’t help it. A grin spread across his features before he could contain it. For the first time since he’d woken up in the engineering lab, he felt relaxed.

“All done!” the doctor said suddenly.

The man blinked in surprise. That had gone much faster than he’d expected.

“Oh... okay, great.”

It happened as he was sitting up. The doctor put out his hand to help, and his fingers brushed the other man’s shoulder. A sudden jolt of  _ something _ passed between them, like electricity, warm but still somehow making the pale man shiver. Blue eyes flew up and met rich brown.

The moment trembled in the air between them, before coming crashing to the ground.

Feeling the heat rush to his face, the man suddenly felt a desperate desire to escape, before the red in his cheeks could betray him.

“Um, thanks,” he said, launching himself off the bio-bed and across the room.

“You’re welcome!” the doctor called after him. With some force of will, the man stopped himself from looking back. He didn’t see the doctor’s eyes follow him all the way out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first few chapters! I plan on updating as regularly as possible - I'm not going to set myself a fixed schedule but it should be at least once a week. :)
> 
> Matthew 4:4 "Fanfic writers cannot live on bread alone, but by every word from the comments of their readers" ;)  
> (No but seriously kudos/comments/feedback would be very welcome. I crave external validation)
> 
> Many thanks to @30MinuteLoop for beta reading


	5. Cakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @30MinuteLoop for beta-reading this

When the man entered the mess hall, he was relieved to see the young red-haired woman. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone, she was sitting with a dark-skinned, brown-haired woman – another human. Regardless, the man replicated some food and went over to join them.

“Hi!” the red-haired woman greeted him enthusiastically. “Meet my new friend!” She indicated the woman next to her, who smiled cautiously. “I mean, I say she’s a new friend but… maybe she’s an old friend. We can’t be sure, can we!” The redhead suddenly frowned. “I mean... that’s just a possibility. I’m not saying that to be weird or anything… oh god, I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous, I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m so sorry…”

As the man watched the redhead’s train-wreck with astonishment, the dark-haired woman finally rescued her.

“It’s okay,” she cut off the redhead’s rambling with a smile. “I’m not offended at all. From what we saw down in the cargo bay, there aren’t that many people on this ship, so I’m sure we all at least know each other.”

The redhead smiled gratefully at her.

Turning to the man, the dark-haired woman said, “You were the one down in the cargo bay who challenged the captain.”

The man sighed. _Great. You’ve already managed to carve out a reputation. As an asshole._

“Look, let’s just say I’m not eager to trust someone whose first instinct was to put himself in charge,” he muttered.

The dark-haired woman just nodded, frowning slightly.

“But hey, I guess we need _someone_ in charge,” the man continued, “and it’s not like I’m jumping for the job. I just wish we’d all had more say in the matter, you know?”

“Yes,” the dark-haired woman said slowly. “I do understand.”

The redhead suddenly snorted with laughter.

“What?” the man said, confused.

“I was just thinking… how embarrassing would it be for him if we all get our memory back and we find out he’s _not_ the Captain!” she said, her eyes glinting mischievously.

The man chuckled as well. “Very embarrassing,” he agreed. A small, petty part of him immediately started hoping it was true.

“I mean theoretically it could be anyone, right?” the redhead continued. “I mean, probably not me… I’m sure I’m too young. But hey, it could definitely be you!” She looked towards the other woman.

“Me?” the dark-haired woman said, surprised.

“Yeah, sure! You seem like you would be a good leader.”

The dark-haired woman shook her head. “It’s very kind of you to say, but I think it’s more likely that I’m a scientist than in any kind of command role.”

“Really? What kind of scientist?” the man asked.

“It’s… difficult to judge,” the dark-haired woman replied hesitantly.

“Which is probably her way of saying that she’s brilliant at everything,” the redhead said, grinning.

“I would never claim such a thing.”

“So, you’re modest too. Yet more evidence that you’d be a good leader.”

The dark-haired woman shook her head again. “There’s no way to know that for sure. We know nothing about ourselves after all.”

“Well maybe,” said the redhead “but even if we’ve lost our memories, surely we’re still the same people we’ve always been, right? I mean, I don’t think our personalities could have changed?”

“Perhaps…” the dark-haired woman said, frowning slightly. “A person can most accurately be described as a sum of their experiences, but it’s plausible that even if you hide those experiences away, the total product remains as it was.”

“Exactly!” the redhead said, beaming. “Like… baking a cake, and then losing the recipe. But you still have the cake! And if you have the cake, then you can deduce what went _into_ the cake!”

The man hid his smile behind his coffee cup. He was feeling something about the redhead that was alarmingly close to fondness.

“Alright,” the dark-haired woman said, playing along in amusement. “So, what can we deduce about our… _cakes_?”

“Well we already know that your cake is brilliant and logical and would be a great leader.” The redhead grinned.

“You flatter me. Also, I fear that your analogy is fast breaking down.”

“Well, I’m running with it. As for me, my cake is…” the redhead broke off for a moment, seemingly struggling to find a word. “…young?”

The dark-haired woman smiled. “Fresh out of the oven, you might say. And, I suspect, also very smart.”

“And sweet,” the man said without thinking.

The redhead turned to him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah…” the man said, embarrassed. “I mean… someone put way too much sugar in your cake,” he continued, trying to play it off as sarcastic and failing miserably.

“Thank you!” the redhead said, beaming. “So what about you?”

The man looked up from his plate to find the women looking at him expectantly. He sighed.

“My cake has been in the oven for too long and has come out completely charred and bitter,” he said, rolling his eyes. “My cake is also smart, _very_ smart in fact, but also cranky and short-tempered...” And then the man was suddenly struck by the memory of that beautiful doctor. He remembered the fleeting touch, and looking into those gorgeous brown eyes. And once again, he spoke without thinking “…and not that it matters, but I think my cake is kinda _gay_.”

The two women looked at him in confusion for a moment, and then the redhead burst out laughing.

“I’m glad to see someone has their priorities right!” she said, grinning. “And uh, also… same?”

“You’re gay?”

“Well more like bi I think. I mean… not that I’ve thought about it a lot or anything…” Her face went red as she spoke. It may have just been the man’s imagination, but he could have sworn he saw her eyes flash towards the dark-haired woman for an instant.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, before the redhead spoke again.

“Hey… I think we should give each other names.”

The man and the dark-haired woman looked at her in confusion.

“I mean… just until we remember our real ones! It’s just… in my head I’ve been calling you ‘Logical Woman’ and ‘Mushroom Man’.”

The mushroom man in question almost spat out his coffee. The redhead continued unabashed.

“And it seems a bit… impersonal, and it would be nice to have proper names to call you just for the time being… I mean if you’d rather not, that’s fine too obviously but um…”

“No, that sounds like a great idea,” the man said sarcastically. “Why not call me ‘Mr. Albino’, that seems appropriate.”

‘We’re not calling you ‘Mr. Albino,’” the redhead said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s better than ‘ _Mushroom Man’_ , for the love of…”

“If I may,” the other woman interjected. “I would like to be called Sylvia.”

“Sylvia?” asked the redhead. “Why Sylvia?”

“I have reason to believe that may be my actual name. The quarters I woke up in had that name written on the door.”

“Oh that’s exciting!” the redhead said beaming. “That’s a lovely name!”

“Thank you,” the dark-haired woman said. “What about you?”

“Hmm…” the redhead pondered for a moment “I think I will call myself… Dorothy!”

The man snorted.

“Of all the names in the world you could have chosen, you’ve gone with _Dorothy,_ ” he said, shaking his head, before making his voice more sincere. “Actually, you know what… I like it. It suits you.”

“Thanks! I thought so too.” Dorothy grinned. “So that just leaves you, Mr. Mushroom Albino Man or whatever.”

The man sighed. “I don’t know what name would suit me. You pick one for me.”

“Okay… how about Mark?”

“Mark?”

“Yeah, you seem like a Mark.”

The man weighed the name in his mind and found it... not altogether disagreeable.

“Okay. Mark it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So about those names. Michael chose the name Sylvia because she believes it’s more logical to choose the name that’s more feminine, as that name is more likely to be hers. Also maybe she prefers the name Sylvia just a bit ;) I apologise in advance if giving Michael the name Sylvia makes things confusing!
> 
> I named Tilly after Dorothy Fontana, one of the writers for Star Trek TOS, who gave us such legendary episodes as ‘Journey to Babel’ and ‘The Enterprise Incident’.
> 
> And I gave Paul the name Mark for reasons that are obvious (those reasons being that I adore RENT and have no imagination and couldn’t resist).
> 
> Let me know what you thought about this chapter in the comments! I'm really not sure if I've struck the right tone with the characters here so I would really value your reassurance/brutal honesty :)


	6. The matrix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy
> 
> Many thanks again to @30MinuteLoop for being my beta reader

Dorothy trailed slightly behind Mark and Sylvia in the corridor, as the three of them walked from the mess hall to the science labs. Somehow, without having to say a word, they’d all agreed to work together to find the answers they sought. Now Mark and Sylvia were engaged in a quickfire discussion that Dorothy was desperately trying to keep up with.

“The life support systems are the most logical place to begin any search for a cause,” said Sylvia, with conviction. “They’re the only system that could affect everyone on the ship at the same time. It can’t be food or water; the ship’s schematics show all the replicators run off of separate circuits.”

“But all the replicators in the mess hall run off the same circuits, and presumably everyone on the ship uses the mess hall, so something could have been introduced there right?” Mark replied.

“True, but I think it is probable that on a starship with rotating duty shifts everyone would eat at the mess at different times. And that being the case, any bio-chemical agent would naturally affect the crew at different times.”

“But we were all affected and woke up at the  _ same _ time.” Mark frowned. “Okay, good point. So, life support?”

“That would appear most likely. Except for the fact that the captain said they’d already checked that.”

“Yeah, but the  _ captain’s _ not a scientist. He could easily have missed something.”

Sylvia shook her head. “The captain may be fallible, but I doubt the computer is.”

“We should still run our own analysis before we rule it out.”

“Agreed.”

Dorothy followed them into the lab, wishing she had something useful to contribute to their discussion. They were just both so  _ smart _ . It was incredibly intimidating.  

They spent the next few hours using the computer and their own impressively large combined pool of knowledge to scan the life support systems for every substance they could think of that could have amnesiatic effects. When that yielded nothing, they took an air sample and tested it manually, ‘just in case the computer was unreliable’. But still, they found nothing. Mark kept suggesting increasingly obscure mushrooms that they could check for, only for the results to come back negative every time.

At some point, Dorothy gave up trying to provide her own suggestions. It always seemed like Sylvia and Mark were three steps ahead of her, and she was nervous about embarrassing herself in front of them. Instead, she assisted by repeatedly calibrating and recalibrating the computer’s search parameters; Mark and Sylvia insisted that that be done manually as well, instead of relying on voice command.

Finally, after five fruitless hours, Mark leaned back in his chair with a huff of annoyance. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“I agree,” Sylvia said, “we may have to rule this cause out after all.”

“So what next?” Dorothy piped up, trying to sound encouraging.

Sylvia looked at Mark. “There was another suggestion you made to the captain? Spatial or temporal anomalies?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I have to admit I was kind of grasping at straws there.”

“Nevertheless, it is not without precedent for certain galactic phenomena to have an effect on the neurological activity of organic life.”

“Yeah, but this kind of effect is beyond anything I know of.”

“Still, it would be wise to at least look into the possibility.”

“Okay. Fair enough. Computer,” Mark said, abandoning the manual calibration in his impatience, “scan the space around the ship. Are there any high energy x-ray sources within a light year of our position?”

“ _ Negative. _ ”

“Quasars?”

“ _ Negative. _ ”

“Quantum filaments?”

“ _ Negative. _ ”

“Omicron particles?”

“ _ Negative. _ ”

“Type A supernovae?”

“ _ Negative. _ ”

“Type A supernovae don’t affect the neurological activity of organic life,” Sylvia said, confused.

“They do if you throw yourself into them, which, right now, sounds tempting,” Mark replied sarcastically.

Dorothy gave a nervous squeak of laughter, which she was quick to smother.

Sylvia sighed. “I understand this is frustrating. But you mustn’t let yourself become discouraged. We  _ are _ making progress.”

“Maybe,” Mark replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It just feels like we’re running out of plausible hypotheses to test.”

There were a few tense moments of silence. Finally, Dorothy spoke up.

“It could just be a glitch in the matrix,” she said, smiling awkwardly.

Mark and Sylvia stared at her. Neither of them seemed to get the joke. Just when Dorothy wanted to curl up in a ball from the embarrassment, the captain’s voice spoke over the intercom again.

_ “To all hands, all medical scans have been completed, and the medical computer will be processing the data for the next few hours. If any crewmembers wish to sleep, you may temporarily use any of the quarters on the habitation decks. All doors have been unlocked. Bridge out.” _

The three collaborators looked at each other.

“It would be good to get some sleep,” Sylvia said.

“Seconded,” Dorothy concurred.

Mark shook his head. “We can’t afford to waste time!”

“Mark. It is illogical to ignore physical needs and push your body and mind to a point where they can no longer function.” Sylvia’s voice was gentle, but firm.

Mark sighed. “Fine. But I’ll find somewhere by myself. No offence or anything, I’d just… rather be alone.”

“Of course. I understand completely.” Sylvia turned to Dorothy. “Would you also like to be alone? I was going to go back to the quarters I woke up in. There are two beds there if you wanted to join me?”

Dorothy’s mouth almost fell open in surprise, but she pulled herself together to stammer out a response. “Uh… sure yeah. I mean yes, I would like to share quarters with you. Not yes, I want to be alone. I definitely don’t want to be alone with my thoughts are you kidding? Uh… so yeah.”

“Great,” said Sylvia, smiling before turning back to Mark. “See you in a few hours.”

“Goodnight,” he replied tiredly.

Dorothy smiled and waved at him before accompanying Sylvia out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a little shorter, the next one will be longer to make up for it :)
> 
> Your comments/feedback are like an oasis in the desert of creative fulfillment so please let me know what you think!


	7. Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy
> 
> Once again, thanks to the wonderful @30MinuteLoop for beta-reading

Mark really shouldn’t have been surprised. In a ship with a crew of less than a hundred and fifty people, it was hardly unlikely that he would run into the same person twice. Still, when the turbolift doors opened to reveal the dark-skinned, brown-eyed doctor, Mark almost did a double take from the shock.

“Hello again,” the doctor said, smiling as he stepped aside to make room in the lift next to him. Mark could already feel the blush rising to his cheeks, but as running away didn’t seem to be an option this time, he stepped inside, flashing a small smile at the doctor as he did so.

“Where’re you headed?” the doctor asked after a few moments.

_ Right. You’re supposed to tell the turbolift where to go. Idiot. _

“Um… Engineering. Sorry.”

The doctor smiled again as the turbolift began to move. “Aren’t you tired? It’s a little late to be working,” he said, sounding almost concerned.

“Uh… actually I was just looking for somewhere to sleep. I know they said we could just take any of the quarters for the time being but… I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right.”

He had indeed spent the last half an hour walking through the ship, occasionally poking his nose into various quarters, only to feel immediately uncomfortable with the personal belongings that seemed to jump out at him from every corner. No matter what the circumstances, it just didn’t seem  _ right _ to invade someone else’s privacy like that. So he’d finally resolved to simply find a corner of the engineering lab he’d woken up in earlier and try to make himself as comfortable as possible, a prospect he wasn’t exactly thrilled about, but seemed better than all other options.

The doctor nodded in sympathy. “I know what you mean. A lot of the other med staff have decided to sleep in sick-bay. But I’ve been stuck in that room all day, I’m tired of the same four walls. So I’m going down to the cargo bay again, I figured I could replicate some blankets and sleep on the floor.” He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Hey uh… sorry if this is a little forward but… you’re welcome to join me if you want? I mean, I can’t promise it’ll be more comfortable than Engineering but… the view of the stars is nice down there. And you know, if you wanted some company…”

Mark stared at him for a moment, feeling something between panic and delight. And god,  _ why  _ was his heart suddenly beating as if he’d just sprinted a marathon?

_ Calm down, for fucks sake. He’s just being friendly. It doesn’t mean he’s… whatever. He just wants some company. No big deal. Calm down. _

Realising he still hadn’t answered the question, Mark cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice from wavering.

“Yes. Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

The doctor grinned, flashing those teeth. Mark’s heart did a backflip.

_ Calm. Down. _

“By the way… you can call me Mark now, I guess,” he said, still fighting to keep his voice under control.

“Mark?”

“Yeah… a couple of friends and I decided to give each other names. You know, just for the time being. They gave me the name Mark.”

“Okay, nice to meet you, Mark!” the doctor said, grinning as he stuck out his hand to shake. Mark raised his eyebrows at the absurdity of the mock greeting, but shook the doctor's hand anyway, making sure to roll his eyes as he did so. That only seemed to delight the doctor even more. He laughed before continuing, “A few people in sick-bay decided to do the same thing, but I couldn’t think of any name that felt... right. So, for now I’m just stuck with ‘Doctor’.”

_ ‘Doctor’ huh. That’s kind of… hot? _

_ CALM. THE FUCK. DOWN. _

When they arrived in the cargo bay, Mark was relieved to see that it was empty. Obviously no-one else had had the same idea as the doctor. And good thing too: he would have found it difficult to sleep in front of a bunch of strangers.

He was led past the shuttlecraft to the far end of the cargo bay, where there was only a force field – stretching from floor to ceiling along the full width of the bay – separating them from the stars, and the cold vacuum of space.

As the doctor started inputting instructions on a nearby replicator, Mark stared out at the stars. He hadn’t really had the chance to admire it when he’d been down here last, but the doctor had been right about the view. With nothing but the relatively dim lights from the ship to block them out, the stars shone through in seemingly infinite number. Running almost parallel with the horizontal axis of the forcefield was the pale strip of white light signifying one of the spiral arms of the galaxy, the intensity and beauty of which seemed to only increase the longer he looked.

It was breathtaking. Romantic too. Mark was quick to stop that train of thought before he could get carried away by it.

Turning around, he saw the doctor coming up behind him with a bundle of blankets in one arm and a tray of food in the other.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the tray down. Upon noticing Mark’s grin, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “What?”

“I was just wondering how I ever doubted that you were a real doctor,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’re nurturing to the point of obsession.”

Laughing, the doctor began laying out the blankets on the floor. “I guess it’s just instinct,” he concurred. Mark couldn’t help but note that he’d laid the blankets fairly close together, although not  _ quite _ touching.

They sat down on the blankets, the tray of food between them, and ate companionably in silence for a few moments. Mark’s heart was still beating a little erratically, but other than that, he’d managed to get himself under more control.

“So…” the doctor said eventually. “How have you been feeling about all this? Losing all your memory and everything.”

Mark remembered how the doctor had asked earlier how he was  _ feeling _ about the scan. Why did this doctor care about  _ feelings _ so much? Maybe he was a counsellor of some kind?

Although, it  _ was _ strange that nobody had really talked about that yet. Everyone had been so fixated on trying to find the cause of the problem, that no one had really stopped to actually think about it, least of all Mark. Still, he tried to answer truthfully.

“Honestly, in my head I’ve kind of been treating it as a… temporary inconvenience,” he said slowly. “it hasn’t really registered as a loss yet, in my mind, ‘cause… well I’m hoping it won’t be forever, or a very long time.”

“Same,” the doctor replied. “Or at least… that’s how it was for me all of today. It was easy while I was up in sickbay, keeping myself busy with the scans. Having something to focus on really helped, but now…”

Mark had to admit, that now the original confusion had worn off, a sense of dread was beginning to settle in his mind. He’d tried to ignore it, tried to deny it, tried to distract himself from it, but it was only growing stronger.

What if he never remembered who he was? What if he never remembered his past, how he became a scientist, how he ended up on this ship flying through space, studying intergalactic mushrooms of all things?

What if he never remembered the people he loved? If he  _ had _ any people he loved that is. Did he have a family? Parents? Siblings? How would they feel if he forgot them forever? And what if he had… someone? Someone special. A partner, or a husband? That was a strange thought. Sitting here across from this beautiful man in front of him, it seemed impossible that anyone else could matter so much.

Putting those thoughts aside, he said, “There’s no sense in worrying. We’ll find the answer. This won’t be forever.”

“And what if it is?” The doctor looked at him with earnest eyes. Strange. Up until now he’d seemed so quietly confident, but now he looked almost vulnerable.

Mark took a deep breath. “If it is… then I guess we’ll have to make the best of it. Start over. Start a new life.”

_ Together, perhaps. _

That thought was ridiculous. Absurd. And yet it almost made the prospect seem cheerful.

The doctor smiled sheepishly. “I guess so…” His eyes dropped to look down at his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap. “Sorry for laying all this on you. You’re… really easy to talk to.”

_ I am? Pretty sure that’s new. _

“It’s okay.” Mark remembered what Sylvia had said earlier. “I mean it’s not really surprising that we feel comfortable with each other. We’re on the same ship, I’m sure we’re not strangers to each other.”

The doctor looked up, and once again met Mark’s eyes. “Perhaps we’re… friends?”

_ Or perhaps we’re more than that. _

The thought passed between them unspoken, but each somehow knew that the other was thinking it. Staring into those rich warm eyes, Mark allowed himself to relish the possibility that this funny, caring,  _ beautiful _ doctor was somehow his, that they had a past together, that once upon a time they had met, and fallen in love.

He so desperately wanted to  _ remember. _

A moment later, he was scolding himself internally for letting himself get carried away. With everything that was happening, there was no time for indulging in personal fantasies. And that’s all they were. Fantasies.

_ As if someone like him could be interested in someone like me… _

Allowing himself that kind of hope was dangerous, and would only lead to heartbreak. So he forced himself to look away. He told himself he was just imagining the flicker of disappointment in the other man’s eyes.

“We should get some sleep,” Mark said finally. The doctor nodded.

They both lay down on top of the blankets, gazing up at the cargo bay roof and out towards the stars.

“Goodnight, Doctor.”

“Goodnight, Mark.”

It shouldn’t feel this easy, falling asleep next to a stranger. He remembered his assertion to Sylvia and Dorothy that he’d wanted to be alone. What was it about this doctor that made that feeling go away? What was it about him that made Mark never want to be alone again?

As he drifted off to sleep, Mark could hear the doctor’s breathing just three feet away. He wished it was closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, feel free to let me know ;) thank you so much to everyone who's commented so far, it really means a lot!


	8. Connection in an Isolating Age...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy
> 
> Than you to my wonderful beta-reader @30MinuteLoop. Go and check out her fics if you haven't already, they're great!

Sylvia woke after a few hours of fitful sleep to the sound of Dorothy’s light snoring emanating from the bed to her left. The time on the digital display next to her read 06:23. Just another hour before the medical data would be available.

As Sylvia lay listening to Dorothy’s snoring, she pondered their situation. Last night, part of her had been hoping that she would wake up with all her memories returned, but that foolish hope was now dead. It had now been almost 24 hours since she’d woken up on the floor of these quarters with no memory of her previous life, and it was becoming clear that this was no temporary fluke.

For all she had insisted to Mark that their work yesterday had not been in vain, she still felt frustrated at their lack of progress. She knew that logically, it was just as valuable to rule out hypotheses as it was to confirm them, but still, psychologically, it felt like they had accomplished nothing.

She wondered why she seemed much less willing to indulge that frustration, to let it come to the forefront of her mind, like Mark had done yesterday. All the other humans seemed so candid about what they were feeling, but she just wanted to bury it, to control it. It was a disconcerting feeling – like she was somehow different, set apart from those around her.

A strange sense of loneliness washed over her, even as another part of her was confused by the feeling. It made no sense to feel lonely. After all, they were all in the same boat - figuratively speaking.

She looked over to Dorothy, still sleeping soundly. Sylvia wasn’t sure what it was about the young woman, but she felt a strange longing to reach out to her, to confide in her. She remembered how cheerful she’d seemed yesterday, so upbeat, so willing to provide comfort and support to those around her. Those were qualities that seemed to elude Sylvia. Perhaps that was why she felt unable to connect with the others.

Sighing, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. As she did so, the snoring to her left finally ceased. Dorothy opened her eyes and yawned.

“Morning!” she said, brightly.

“Good morning, Dorothy. How are you feeling?”

“Fine! I mean, same as yesterday. No change. You?”

“Likewise.”

Dorothy pushed her bedcovers aside and sat up, facing towards Sylvia on the other bed.

“Well, look on the bright side! The medical data will be available soon. I’m sure we’ll find some answers there!”

Once again, Sylvia marvelled at her optimism. It warmed her heart, overcoming the small voice inside her that told her optimism was illogical.

“I say we go and get some breakfast first,” Dorothy continued, “and then we’ll go to the medbay and check the results.” Dorothy suddenly broke off and frowned. When she spoke again, a hint of anxiety had crept into her voice. “I mean… if you want me to come, that is…”

Sylvia didn’t understand that last part at all. “Why wouldn’t I want you to come?” she asked, bafflement creeping into her voice.

“Oh, you know…” Dorothy trailed off, her cheeks slowly turning pink.

Sylvia didn’t know. At all. She felt frustration rise within her again at her own lack of understanding. Any other human would be able to interpret this. Why couldn’t she?

“I really don’t understand what you mean,” she said, finally.

“It’s just… you and Mark are such _geniuses_ . I mean, you’re both truly brilliant. And you seem so sure of yourselves all the time, like you know exactly what you’re doing, and why you’re here. And me… well, I feel pretty useless, to be honest. I know I wasn’t helpful at all yesterday, and I really _was_ trying, it’s just that I didn’t want to say something stupid or interrupt you when you were working and thinking so hard. So, I really will understand if you don’t want me getting in your way today. I’m just… yeah. Sorry.”  

If Sylvia had felt confused before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Dorothy thought she wasn’t helpful yesterday? How on earth had she managed to come to that conclusion?

“Dorothy…” Sylvia said finally, “you and I remember yesterday very differently.”

Dorothy looked up to meet Sylvia’s eyes. “What do you mean?” she said, surprised.

Sylvia hesitated. She wanted to explain to the younger woman how grateful she felt for her warmth and her friendship, for her optimism in the face of terrifying circumstances, for her support and her intelligence and her kindness. But she didn’t know how to put it into words. She didn’t feel emotionally equipped to explain it all. So, as seemed to be her custom, she fell back on logic.

“Dorothy… how many times did you manually recalibrate the computer yesterday?”

Dorothy looked confused for a moment before answering. “Uh… maybe 100 times?”

“137, to be precise. And how long did it take you, on average, to recalibrate the computer each time?”

Dorothy frowned. “About two minutes, I guess?”

“105 seconds, on average.”

“You calculated that?!” Dorothy asked, marvelling.

“That’s not the point. The point is, I would be unable to recalibrate a computer in less than three minutes. Most people I suspect would need at least ten. You managed to do it, consistently, over a period of five hours, in an average of 105 seconds. Dorothy… if it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have made nearly as much progress as we did yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that, I assumed it was obvious.” Sylvia hesitated for a moment. “I seem to have a… blind spot when it comes to anticipating people’s thoughts and emotions. But nevertheless, I was incredibly grateful for your presence yesterday and I would be equally grateful for your help today. I can’t speak for Mark, of course, but I’m reasonably confident that he would agree with me.”

Thorough Sylvia’s speech, Dorothy had stared at her, blushing more and more deeply. Now, she was unsure of what to say. Swallowing her embarrassment and joy, she quietly whispered, “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Sylvia said gently, before continuing, “Now, I believe you suggested breakfast?”

Dorothy broke into an ear-splitting grin. “Sounds great,” she said.

“Let’s go then.”

Both of them feeling a little less isolated, the two women left their quarters to face the day.

 

* * *

 

When the doctor woke, he didn’t open his eyes immediately. Instead, he enjoyed the cocoon of warmth that seemed to be all around him, the gentle breathing, the smell so comforting, so _right_ somehow. So warm.

Too warm.

His eyes flew open. Pale blond hair obstructed his vision. Mark was lying next to him, barely 7 inches away, still sleeping. He was so close. Too close. Not close enough.

_He must have moved towards me while we slept._

No, wait. He could feel the edge of the blanket and the smooth hard floor of the cargo bay pressed against his side. _I moved too._

He knew that he should move back. This was too… intimate. It was wrong.

That was his rational voice talking. A voice which unfortunately was getting no cooperation from his heart, his emotions, or frankly, his body. All those parts of him were simply overcome with longing.

It was a longing he’d felt ever since he’d watched the beautiful pale scientist stand up to the captain yesterday. A longing that had only grown when he came into sickbay with all his sass and wit and ego. A longing that had almost overwhelmed him last night, when he’d been so tempted just to reach out and hold him, or kiss him, or…

_No. No, you can’t. This is wrong._

He stared at Mark’s sleeping face for a few moments. He seemed peaceful, but his impossibly pale eyebrows were slightly puckered together in a small frown. The doctor wanted desperately to reach out, to smooth that crease between his eyebrows, to wake him up and see him smile.

_No. This is wrong. You don’t know what you are to each other. You have no right to him. That would be taking advantage._

His rational voice again. Only this time with an argument that was much harder to ignore. Who knew what damage it could cause in the long run to do something impulsive now? Who knew how many people could get hurt. They were both mentally compromised after all. He couldn’t just ignore that.

He had just made the decision to move back to his blanket when Mark’s eyes opened.

It took a few moments of staring into each other’s eyes for Mark to register where he was. In those moments, the doctor saw a whole range of emotions in the other man’s eyes: peace, comfort, happiness, contentment. All of which twisted into mortification as soon as realisation hit.

Sitting up hurriedly, his skin already going delightfully red, Mark seemed to struggle to find words for a few moments. “Sorry,” he said finally. “I uh… didn’t realise…”

“It’s okay!” the doctor said reassuringly. To conceal his own embarrassment, he tried to play it off with humour. “I suppose that’s what we get for not putting up a barrier.”

Mark laughed, awkwardly. “Yeah, we should put up a cushion wall between us next time or something.”

_Next time? Good._

The doctor tried and failed to bury that thought.

“Hungry?” he asked. Mark shook his head.

“Then do you want to come up to sickbay with me? The results should be in on the medical computer by now.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Together they rolled up their blankets and left them lying against some crates. As they walked towards the turbolifts at the end of the bay, the doctor felt Mark’s hand brush the back of his own. He resisted the urge to take it.

_Do no harm. Don’t take advantage. You are a doctor. Do what’s right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect some actual Plot stuff to be happening next chapter! Until then, comments and feedback are very much appreciated :)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	9. Triple Checked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy
> 
> Many thanks again to my beta-reader @30MinuteLoop
> 
> Warning. There be technobabble ahead.

Sylvia was staring at the data on the medical computer, frowning slightly. Dorothy could sense the other woman’s confusion and wished she could do something to alleviate it. Unfortunately, despite her limited knowledge of neuroscience, even she could tell the data in front of them made no sense.

“Are you sure these results have been double checked?” Sylvia asked.

The Andorian doctor next to her sighed in impatience. “Yes. Triple checked actually. I know it’s confusing, but I can assure you it’s accurate.”

“If that’s the case, then it seems we’re no closer to finding an answer.”

“No. Unfortunately not.”

At that moment, the doors to sickbay opened, and Mark walked in, accompanied by a man who Dorothy assumed must also be a doctor, judging by the white uniform. She waved in greeting, a gesture which Mark grudgingly returned.

“Any new developments?” he asked tentatively.

“See for yourself,” Sylvia replied, gesturing towards the medical computer.

Mark and the doctor both looked up at the screen, confusion registering in their faces after a few moments.

“Wait. The scans found no damage to the pathways in the neocortex?” the doctor asked, echoing Sylvia’s question from just five minutes before.

“None,” Sylvia replied, “And furthermore, there appears to be no alteration to the brain chemistry in that or any other region. But take a look at the MRI data.”

The doctor scanned the screen and looked, if possible, even more confused. “Wait, what? There are no signals registering in the neocortex at _all_?”

“No. There _are_ signals in the hippocampus though.”

“Well that’s to be expected,” the doctor said, frowning, “but the neocortex data makes no sense at all. If there’s no actual _damage_ … has this data been double checked?”

“Triple checked,” the Andorian doctor repeated irritably.

“But it doesn’t make _sense.”_

“Excuse me.” A slightly drawling voice spoke from behind them, making the whole group jump. It was the captain, looking more than a little impatient. “Would somebody care to fill me in, preferably without me having to get a PhD in neuroscience?”

The Andorian doctor recovered first. “Of course, Captain,” she said, slightly flustered. “Well the good news is that as you can see on the screen, there is no damage to any of the pathways in the neocortex. That’s the region of the brain which stores explicit memory – memory of personal experience, the kind of memory we’ve all lost. That’s a good thing, it means that our memories are still there, still stored at least. And we’re able to form new memories, obviously we all remember everything that’s happened to us since yesterday, so that accounts for the activity in the hippocampus. But the problem is there are no signals in the neocortex at all. No information being transmitted. And without those signals, we can’t access our memories.”

“I see. That makes sense to me, so what is the source of your confusion?”

“Well,” said Sylvia, taking over from the Andorian, “because there’s no actual physical damage in the neocortex, and the brain chemistry doesn’t appear to have been altered in any way, there’s no explanation for the lack of signals. In theory, there should be nothing wrong with us. The idea of signals in the brain just stopping without any discernible cause is… without precedent.”

The captain raised his eyebrows. “I’d say that precedent has just been set, wouldn’t you?”

“With all due respect, Captain,” Mark said sceptically, “there’s no such thing as effect without cause. If the signals in our brains have stopped, then _something_ has caused that. Even if it’s not brain damage, or any disruption of the chemicals that usually regulate those signals.”

At that, Dorothy noticed Sylvia’s eyes widening, as though an idea had just come to her.

The captain cleared his throat. “Okay, it seems I’m out of my depth here. I’ll leave you to your speculation. Keep me posted with any hypotheses you may have, but you are not authorised to start testing any theories without my approval first, understand?”

“Yes, Captain,” they all murmured quietly. Dorothy noticed that Mark just inclined his head slightly.

“Good luck.” The captain turned and walked out the door.

The Andorian doctor sighed. “I need to inform the rest of the crew that the data is available,” she said, turning to head for the medical office.

The four remaining humans regarded each other in silence for a few moments. It was Dorothy who finally spoke. “Sleep well?” she asked, looking at Mark.

Mark looked a little embarrassed. “Yes, thank you,” he replied. Dorothy noticed his eyes flash towards the doctor, who was also blushing slightly.

_‘Kinda gay’ huh?_

“Well if you aren’t going to introduce us…” she said, rolling her eyes at Mark, who shrugged defensively. She stepped towards the doctor and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Dorothy, this is Sylvia. For the time being at least.”

The doctor smiled and took her hand. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Is there anything you’d like us to call you?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to come up with a good name for myself yet.”

“Ah!” Dorothy exclaimed excitedly. “That’s because you haven’t met _me_ yet! I am the _best_ at coming up with names.”

The doctor’s smile widened. “You came up with Mark’s name, right?” he asked, his eyes flashing towards the scientist as he did so.

“Yep.” Dorothy replied.

“Well, then I know you have good taste,” the doctor said, grinning now. Mark’s blush deepened.

_Kinda gay? More like very fucking gay._

“Give me a minute. I’ll come up with something for you,” Dorothy promised.

Seemingly wishing to remove himself from the conversation, Mark turned to Sylvia. “You looked like you had an idea of some sort?”

“Perhaps,” she said, frowning, but I’d prefer to discuss it elsewhere. Sickbay will be full of people coming to look at the data soon. It’ll be too crowded.”

“We can go back to the science lab,” said Mark, already heading for the door. The other three followed him.

In the turbolift, Dorothy suddenly spoke up. “I’ve got it!” she said. The other three turned to her.

“Uh… your name, I mean,” she said, going slightly pink. “Sorry, that probably didn’t warrant so much excitement.”

The doctor smiled. “Well?” he asked.

“Gene.”

“ _Gene?_ ”

“Yes. Short for Eugene, but everyone calls you Gene.”

Mark smiled. “First Dorothy and now _Eugene_. You do have a taste for names that have been out of fashion since the 20th century,” he said, his sarcasm undercut by the note of warmth in his voice.

“Well, I say it’s about time they made a comeback!” Dorothy replied, “So, what do ya think, Doc?”

The doctor pondered for a moment before slowly nodding. “You know what, I like it. I can’t explain it, but it feels right somehow.”

Dorothy beamed. “Told you I was the best at this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you may have guessed, I named Hugh after Gene Roddenberry, because I feel that of all the characters on Discovery, he is the most 'Roddenberry-esque' in his idealism and morality. I would like to formally apologise to @stellaviatorii for stealing their name though!
> 
> Please continue leaving comments/feedback, I'm so grateful for all the comments I've had so far it really means the world!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	10. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy  
> Hugh = Gene
> 
> Many thanks again to my beta-reader @30MinuteLoop
> 
> Warning. There be (more) technobabble ahead.

Gene stood in front of the computer terminal, silently scanning the list of substances that the other three had checked yesterday, privately marvelling at its length. After a few minutes of silence, he looked up and shook his head. “No. There’s nothing I can think of that I’d add to this list. You were very thorough.”

Sylvia nodded. “Okay,” she said, “time for a new theory then.”

The four of them gathered round the largest workstation in the science lab, the other three looking at Sylvia as she began to speak.

“So far, we’ve been working under the assumption that whatever has done this to us has been causing memory loss by either damaging the brain or affecting the brain chemistry. That’s what substances that trigger amnesia usually do, and that’s how galactic phenomena affect us as well. However, the medical data shows that this assumption was inaccurate. Therefore, I propose that something is directly affecting the signals themselves.”

“Go on,” said Mark, interested.

“The signals in our brains may be biochemical in origin, but they’re still electric signals – essentially no different to the normal communication signals sent over subspace. There exists the technology to jam communication signals, to prevent starships from communicating with each other. Is it not theoretically possible that someone could have modified that technology to jam signals in the brain, in a similar fashion?”

The other three considered for a moment. Even as he was turning over Sylvia’s idea in his head, Gene was beginning to see why Mark had trusted her so quickly, even against all his apparent instincts. She really was brilliant.

Finally, Mark spoke up. “Surely such technology would have to be incredibly fine-tuned to block the brain’s signals so selectively? It’s only blocking them in one area.”

Gene nodded. “From a medical point of view, the signals in each discrete region of the brain can be distinguished from each other. So yeah, it would be theoretically possible to isolate the exact wavelengths and frequencies of those signals, but it would be incredibly difficult to calibrate correctly. Certainly, beyond any technology I know of.”

“So, if your theory is correct,” Dorothy continued nervously, “If someone _has_ developed this technology, that proves that this isn’t an accident – what’s happened to us. Someone did it on purpose.”

A shiver of apprehension ran through the four of them. Gene tried to imagine the kind of person that would subject someone to this deliberately and felt a wave of disgust.

“But _who?”_ said Mark in frustration. “And why? They must have done it for some _reason_ , but no-one’s tried to attack us. We haven’t even seen another ship. What’s the endgame here?”

Even amidst his fear, Gene couldn’t help but notice how Mark seemed to talk with his hands when he got agitated. It was kind of adorable.

“I would suggest that speculation on that subject is useless,” Sylvia replied, “Our priority should be to regain our memories. Then perhaps there will be an obvious candidate.”

“Okay then, assuming your theory is correct, how do we reverse the process?” Gene asked.

Sylvia frowned. “Well, if we further the analogy, the only way to prevent the jamming of communication signals is to destroy or disable the device doing the jamming.”

“Assuming that some sort of device is doing this, I think we have to assume that it’s on board the ship,” said Mark. “There’s no way that technology this finely tuned could operate effectively over long distances.”

“We could scour the ship?” Gene suggested.

“That could take ages. The device could be very small,” Sylvia said.

“If it’s emitting some kind of signal to block our brain activity, can we detect it?” Dorothy asked tentatively.

Mark shook his head. “There are probably thousands of signals being emitted on this ship. It will just be lost in the noise.”

“But what if we figured out the exact frequency we were looking for?” Dorothy replied.

The other three looked at her more intently. “How?” Mark asked.

Dorothy looked nervous for a moment, but then seemed to gather her courage. “Well, we have MRI data from a normal sentient brain. I noticed it in the med-bay – we had the data there for comparison. So, using that data we could reverse-engineer the signal that would be necessary to cancel out _those_ signals, right? And then if we detect _that_ signal on the ship, we’ll know that’s the right one, and we’ll be able to trace it. I mean, obviously that won’t be easy, but uh… we do have a doctor here, who knows about the brain.” She broke off for a moment and smiled at Gene, before turning to Mark and Sylvia. “And you two are both highly skilled at quantum mechanics. And me, well I can… help. But between the four of us, we could do it, right?” She looked at the others questioningly.

There were a few moments of silence. Finally, Mark spoke. “Dorothy, that’s _brilliant_.”

Dorothy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Gene nodded. “Yes, I agree. I think we can do it.”

Sylvia just smiled. Dorothy went slightly red, but she looked delighted.

“That being said, it’s probably going to take a while…” Gene said, sighing.

Mark looked at him, his eyes sparkling. “Well then, the sooner we get started the better, my dear doctor.”

Something about the slightly teasing way he said those words made Gene’s heart start beating frantically. For a moment he was completely disarmed, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t the slight upturn of Mark’ lips, or the deep blue of his eyes. God, he could get lost in those eyes.

Sylvia’s voice brought him back to reality. “Should we inform the captain of our plan?”

All four of them hesitated, the captain’s voice ringing in their ears. _“You are not authorised to start testing any theories without my approval first.”_

Mark finally broke the silence. “I don’t think we should.”

Sylvia looked at him. “You’ve made your… distrust of the captain clear, but if we’re going to disobey his direct orders, I think we need a good reason,” she said hesitantly.

“Then I’ll give you one,” said Mark. “If we’re right, and the device _is_ on board the ship, then someone must have put it there. And that person could be anyone, including a member of the crew, _including_ the captain. I’m not sure it’s wise to tell anyone what we’re doing, in case we end up alerting the perpetrator of all this that we’re on their trail. We can’t trust anyone.”

Sylvia considered for a few moments, before nodding. “I must concede that your logic is sound.”

All four of them were suddenly aware of the very large elephant in the room. All of them had the same thought, almost at the same time.

_If we can’t trust anyone, then how can we trust each other?_

It was strange, Gene thought, how one could develop such camaraderie and respect for complete strangers within such a short time, laying the foundations of the deepest bonds of friendship, to the point where betrayal seemed unthinkably painful.

As they looked at each other, they all made the choice to trust. Invigorated by their faith, they got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Very sorry it's been a while since I updated! I was finishing up my thesis last week and I was s t r e s s e d but I should be returning to my regular schedule from now!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Your comments are the only nourishment I crave ;)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	11. Perfect Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy  
> Hugh = Gene
> 
> Many thanks again to my beta-reader @30MinuteLoop

They worked for twenty hours straight without breaking. They probably wouldn’t even have eaten if it hadn’t been for Gene insisting that they all stuff down some replicated sandwiches every few hours. All four of them felt the pressure of time, the urgency that came with the knowledge that they could be attacked at any moment, or that their work could be discovered.

Even despite the stress though, Sylvia was feeling calmer than she had since the ordeal had begun. Something about having a plan and working towards a definite goal was incredibly comforting. And there was such a thrill in the collaboration as well, the feeling of their four brilliant minds connecting and thinking and creating in union, striving towards a common purpose.

As they worked, Sylvia couldn’t help but notice how Mark and Gene kept stealing glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Occasionally, their hands would brush over each other, fleeting accidental moments of contact and small smiles.

She wasn’t sure how to interpret their behaviour. Their actions spoke of a deeper connection between the two of them; however, it seemed unlikely that such a bond could be formed in such a short space of time. She was concerned that the stress of the situation was pushing them together in a way that could be dangerous for them. But she voiced none of her concerns, instead staying focussed on the task at hand.

Finally, the four of them stood back from the workstation, satisfied. The fruit of their many hours of labour was on the screen in front of them – a single algorithm which, when they inputted the MRI data, would calculate the exact frequency they would need to locate on the ship.

“How can we be sure it will work?” asked Gene tentatively.

“We can’t,” replied Sylvia, “we can only input the data and hope that our calculations our accurate.”

“Well, I don’t think we need to be concerned about that,” said Mark, sounding quite sure of himself.

“How long will it take for the algorithm to process the data and give us the answer?” said Dorothy.

“A few hours perhaps,” Sylvia replied.

“Good,” said Gene, “then we all have some time to get some sleep.”

Mark looked at him like he’d just grown an extra head. The doctor gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Look, we’re all no use to anyone if we’re exhausted, and there’s nothing we can do while we’re waiting for the result. The best thing we can do is get some sleep,” he appealed to him patiently.

“But… what if the result comes in while we’re all asleep. Every second could count here!” Mark exclaimed.

“I can program the computer to alert my communicator when it finishes the calculation. We can all come back here right away,” said Sylvia. “I agree it’s… frustrating. But the doctor is right. We should get some sleep.”

Seeing he was defeated, Mark sighed and nodded.

“Where did you two sleep last night anyway?” Dorothy asked, clearly making an effort to keep her voice nonchalant.

Mark opened and closed his mouth several times, but seemed unable to form words. The blush that was spreading across his features confirmed all of Sylvia’s suspicions about the nature of their relationship.  

Gene however, seemed completely unfazed. “Down in the cargo bay. Would you like to join us?”

Mark snapped his head towards the doctor, frowning in confusion. But Dorothy shook her head.

“No way, I need a bed thank you very much. We’ll just go back to the quarters we stayed in last night,” she said, smiling at Sylvia, who nodded in agreement.

“Okay, well we’ll see you in a few hours,” said Gene, smiling warmly. “Coming?” he asked, turning to Mark, who still looked slightly flummoxed.

After a few moments, Mark nodded, and followed the doctor towards the exit. At the door, he turned around. “Contact us the  _ moment _ you hear anything,” he said before hurrying out.

Dorothy snorted in amusement. Sylvia looked slightly confused. “I… do not understand the source of your humour.”

Dorothy grinned. “Those two are  _ adorable.” _

“Adorable?” Sylvia frowned. “They are clearly forming a romantic connection of some sort. But I fail to see how that is ‘adorable’.”

“Well, they’re perfect for each other!” Dorothy said enthusiastically. “The prickly, genius scientist with the heart of gold and his warm, compassionate, equally brilliant doctor. It’s like a fairy tale.” She sighed in contentment and grinned at Sylvia. “Even you, Ms. Rational-and-Logical, have to admit that they’re pretty cute together?”

Sylvia considered her friend’s words as they made their way back towards their quarters. It was certainly true that the doctor and the scientist seemed to take comfort in each other. Sylvia had seen the lightness that seemed to come over them whenever the other was near. So what was her problem, really?

“I’m just concerned about them,” she said finally. She was surprised at the truth in her own words. She really was worried. She cared about them. “Neither of them knows what their lives were before this. I just hope that they’re both sensible. Under the circumstances I’m not sure it would be logical to get… entangled.”

“You’re probably right,” replied Dorothy. “But since when did love and logic walk hand in hand?”

“Perhaps never,” Sylvia replied, a slightly wistful melancholy in her voice.

Dorothy stopped walking, her eyes widening. “Oh, no, Sylvia, I didn’t mean… I wasn’t trying to imply…”

“It’s okay Dorothy,” Sylvia said, “I know what you meant. Nevertheless, I feel that I have a very… limited understanding of love.”

Dorothy looked at her, seemingly trying to gather her nerve. Then she stepped forwards suddenly and placed a very light kiss on the side of Sylvia’s cheek. Stepping back, her own cheeks flaming, she looked directly into Sylvia’s eyes. “I think you’re wrong,” she said simply.

Sylvia blinked a few times, surprised. She wasn’t sure how to respond to her friend’s actions but was thankfully spared the necessity when Dorothy simply smiled and began walking down the corridor again. “Let’s go get some sleep,” she said.  

Sylvia very carefully brought her hand up to her face and tentatively brushed over the spot where Dorothy had kissed her. Confused at the warmth that seemed to be rising up from deep within her, she followed her friend to their quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologise again for the delay! For some reason this chapter didn't seem to want to write itself, but we got there eventually ;) 
> 
> I continue to cherish your comments/feedback more than anything in life!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	12. Draw me out beyond the shore...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy  
> Hugh = Gene
> 
> Many thanks again to my wonderful beta-reader @30MinuteLoop, whose comments were especially helpful for this chapter!

“Why did you want them to come down here with us?”

The question was out of Mark’s mouth before he even realised that was what he’d been thinking. Gene looked over at him, surprised, as Mark joined him in front of the cargo bay forcefield. On the way down from the science lab they’d been mostly silent, both of them too afraid to acknowledge the waves of tension that had been building between them ever since they left the calming distractions of Dorothy and Sylvia’s company. Now they stood in their deserted cargo bay, the entire galaxy resplendent and glorious ahead them, with eyes only for each other, teetering over some invisible precipice.

Gene blinked a few times before answering. “I don’t know? I was just being polite, that’s all.” His voice was guarded, defensive.

“Right,” said Mark, embarrassed. He’d been surprised when Gene had invited Dorothy and Sylvia to join them. He’d realised that part of him had been thinking of this place as _theirs_. Just theirs. That thought made him feel pretty silly now.

Mark had been trying, he really had. All day, he’d tried to stay focussed on the task at hand. There was no time for personal indulgence or distractions; there was too much at stake. Still, every time he met the doctor’s eyes, it all came rushing back: his smile, the sound of his voice, the way it felt to wake up next to him. And seeing him now, his face only illuminated by the stars and the soft glow of the forcefield, he seemed to have a sort of ethereal quality, as though he were himself a source of light, and not just a reflector of it.

Mark didn’t understand how another person, a person that he’d technically only known for two days, could have such a profound effect on him. And, foolish as it seemed, he hoped that he might be having an effect on the doctor as well.

But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Mark was reading too much into the banter and the flirting, maybe he was just imagining the flickers of interest in Gene’s eyes. Maybe he was just wishfully overthinking everything. It seemed like the sort of thing he would do. But before he could let that worry consume him, Gene sighed.

“Okay that… that was a lie. I shouldn’t lie to you.” He looked almost sheepish. He gazed for a moment out at the stars, seeming to gather his courage before turning back to Mark. “It wasn’t about politeness. I wanted them to come with us because I thought it would make things… easier.”

“Easier?”

“I thought it might be easier if I wasn’t alone with you. That way it’s less likely I’ll do something I’ll regret.”

Mark’s mouth was dry, his heart somewhere in his throat. “Something you’ll regret…” he repeated, softly.

He could see Gene’s expression in the dim light. He looked conflicted, but there was no mistaking it: there was longing in his eyes too. Slowly, impossibly slowly, he raised his hand to rest lightly on Mark’s cheek.

In a soft, barely-there gesture, Gene ran his thumb gently down the side of Mark’s cheek. Barely-there, if not for the sensation of fire that seemed to ignite under Mark’s skin at the touch. And then Gene’s hand was gone, replaced only by cold emptiness. Gene stepped back, his hands falling to his sides, guilt and regret flooding his expression.

“I’m sorry. We can’t do this. It’s not that I don’t _want_ …” Gene broke off suddenly and looked away. “We just _can’t_.”

Mark tried not to let any hint of disappointment cross his features. “I understand,” he said hoarsely. But the doctor wasn’t done with explanations.

“We could be married,” Gene said, not really looking at Mark anymore, as though it wasn’t him he was trying to convince, “to other people, I mean. Or we could have partners or relationships that we put in jeopardy because we couldn’t go 48 hours without jumping on some random handsome stranger. We could be good friends, or professional colleagues. We could…” he trailed off, looking back at Mark searchingly. “We could be anything to each other,” he finished.

_Enemies. Friends. Lovers. Partners. Husbands. Soulmates._

“For all we know we could hate each other,” Mark said quietly, not believing his words, but desperately trying to get his rational mind to reboot.

“Right. And if we do anything now… we can never take it back.”

_And perhaps we’d never want to._

“You’re right, Gene. Of course, you’re right.”

_You’re wrong. We’re wrong._

“So… we’re agreed then?”

_No._

“Yes. We’re adults. We can choose to rise above it.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Good.”

And afterwards, Mark really wasn’t able to remember how it had happened, who had moved first, who had initiated it, how one second, they’d been nodding in agreement, and the next second, they were doing the _exact thing_ they’d just agreed not to do. All he remembered was Gene’s warm and desperate eyes, getting closer and closer, and the sudden feel of soft lips upon his.

And in that moment, everything changed.

Not literally of course. The cargo bay remained empty around them, the forcefield still hummed quietly, and the galaxy beyond spun on in silent, glorious witness.

And Mark still remembered nothing at all. It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the feeling of Gene’s lips against his, moving in tandem, their bodies pressed together as familiar hands roamed across familiar skin. All that mattered was the knowledge that was all of a sudden burning like a meteor across his mind, loud and joyful, occupying all his conscious thought.

_This man is mine. I am his. We are each other’s._

Maybe it was muscle memory. Or instinct. Or some message from the divine. He could not be sure from where this certainty sprang. This absolute fundamental truth. He only knew that this was not, _could not_ , be the first time. Because kissing this man welled up too much love and joy and passion in his heart. Kissing this man felt like comfort and safety and well-worn familiarity wrapped up in satisfaction, as though his entire being were receiving a nourishment it had craved but had too long been denied. Kissing this man felt like coming home.

When they eventually broke apart, Mark blinked a few times, slightly overwhelmed. He felt dizzy, as though the ship had done several flips in space while they’d been distracted. And then, he couldn’t help it. He giggled.

“What?” Gene asked, looking slightly concerned.

“I’d say we fucked that up pretty spectacularly, wouldn’t you?!”

The doctor laughed. And god, if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound in the universe. “Well, we can’t always be geniuses.”

“Just in the interest of honesty, I’ve wanted to do that ever since you threatened my frontal cortex,” Mark admitted.

Gene laughed again. “For me, it was when I saw you challenge the captain in front of everyone down here. You’re pretty hot when you’re standing up to authority.” The doctor winked at him. “And then when you came into sick-bay and immediately started complaining I knew I was _really_ in trouble.”

Mark grinned. “We’re being pretty stupid, aren’t we?” he asked.

“Yep,” Gene replied happily.

“Wanna be stupid some more?”

“God, yes.”

And they kissed again. Softer this time. Sweeter. But as they pulled away, Mark couldn’t help but notice a small crease had appeared on the doctor’s brow.

“You’re still worried?” Mark asked, reaching out his hand to stroke Gene’s face with his thumb, mirroring the doctor’s gesture from earlier.

Gene looked him dead in the eye. “Tell me I’m not taking advantage of you.”

 _God, he’s such a_ gentleman _. He’s perfect._

Mark tried to speak soothingly. “You’re not, my dear doctor. I want this. I know all the reasons I _shouldn’t_ want this, but I do.”

Gene relaxed and nodded. “Me too.”

“If anything, we’re taking advantage of each other. That cancels it out. Two wrongs _do_ make a right, in this situation.” The last part Mark said ever so slightly teasingly.

Gene rolled his eyes. “Is that more of your _genius_ logic?”

“Yes, which means you can’t argue with it. You know it is completely sound.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Gene leaned forward again. This time, the kiss they shared was passionate, lips parting slowly to allow a more eager exploration of mouths and tongues. At some point Gene began running his fingers through Mark’s hair. Relishing the sensation, Mark wrapped his arms around the doctor’s waist, pulling him in as close as possible, causing Gene to let out a small moan in response.

Mark would have happily let things go further – much further – common sense be damned. But eventually Gene pulled away again, albeit reluctantly. They were both slightly breathless.

“We really do need to sleep, Dorothy and Sylvia will get suspicious if we go back looking exhausted, particularly as I’m the one who insisted on getting some rest.”

Mark smirked slightly. “Am I detecting a hint of regret, dear doctor?”

Gene rolled his eyes again. “One of us has to be the sensible one.”

“And you think that’s you?”

“Honey. I’d be willing to bet my hypothetical mother’s life that I am the sensible one in this relationship.”

Mark grinned. “That hardly seems fair… you can’t be the sensible one _and_ the handsome one.”

The doctor looked adorably flustered for a moment, but finally pulled himself together.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. We need to _sleep_ , Mark.”

“Alright, come on then. Pull your blanket over here.”

Gene raised his eyebrows innocently. “You don’t want to build that cushion wall?”

“Fuck that.”

Gene laughed. They pushed the blankets together and lay down, limbs comfortably entangled, with Gene’s head resting on Mark’s chest. As their breathing slowly evened out, Mark took a moment to simply marvel at the man in his arms. All the details of his past were a mystery, but this was by far the greatest, how he had ever managed to win the heart of such a man as this.

“You really are mine, aren’t you?” he asked softly, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice.

Gene chuckled happily. “I think I always have been… but I certainly am now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm so sorry for the delay in updating this! I spent a week without my laptop because it was being repaired, and then other general life stuff meant that I didn't have time to write. But I uh... hope this chapter was worth the wait ;)
> 
> Every time someone comments on my fanficion, a little fairy in my mind gains its wings!
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	13. Floodgates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder:  
> Michael = Sylvia  
> Paul = Mark  
> Tilly = Dorothy  
> Hugh = Gene
> 
> Many thanks again to my wonderful beta-reader (and hype manager!) @30MinuteLoop. She just wrote a Culmets archaeology AU, which you should definitely read if you haven't already!

The communicator had been beeping for all of five seconds before Sylvia was out of bed, and halfway across the room towards the door. Dorothy sat up as though she had been electrocuted, and blinked in confusion a few times, getting her bearings. As she reached the door, Sylvia snapped open the communicator which she had hastily picked up.

“Mark, Gene, do you read me?”

There was silence on the other end for a few moments, then a crackle of static, and Mark’s voice, sounding surprisingly alert. “Yes, we read you.”

“The communicator just alerted me. The algorithm has finished running.”

“Great, we’re on our way.”

Sylvia closed the communicator and took a deep breath, anticipation curling in her gut.

“This could be it!” Dorothy said excitedly, crossing the room to reach her friend.

Sylvia opened her mouth to remind Dorothy not to get her hopes up, but soon closed it again. In truth, she was having trouble controlling her excitement herself.

Five minutes later, the four of them were anxiously standing in front of the station console in the science lab, watching Dorothy fumbling as she input the results into her tricorder.

“Well?” said Mark after a few moments. “Did it find anything?”

“Give it a second… wait... YES! It’s picked up a signal matching the exact frequency. It’s local, coming from inside the ship like we suspected.”

Sylvia felt her heart rate increase by 23% at those words; an undeniably emotional response. Quite apart from the knowledge that all of this could be over soon, having such concrete confirmation of her theory was deeply gratifying.

“Where is it?” she asked, fighting to control her voice.

“Tracing it now. Hang on… got it! It’s on deck 4, one of the other science labs.”

“Let’s go.”

Another five minutes, and they were inside the science lab. Dorothy led them, tricorder trembling in her hand, to a stack of cargo crates in the corner.

“In there,” she said, indicating the crate on top, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sylvia opened the crate carefully. All four of them peered in. And sure enough, the device was inside. It was smaller than Sylvia had expected; about the length and width of a PADD, although significantly thicker. It looked completely nondescript, save for a red light on the side which was flashing ominously, indicating its active status.

“Should we destroy it?” Gene asked, his voice slightly unsteady.

Mark shook his head. “We’d better scan it first, make sure it’s not rigged to explode or something.”

Dorothy nodded and scanned the device silently. Finally, she gave a sigh of relief. “I’m not picking up anything, it seems completely harmless. And we don’t have to destroy it, I can disable the signal emitter easily.”

Picking up some tools from a nearby workstation, she got to work, removing the casing on the device to reveal the complex machinery inside. “It should only take a couple of minutes,” she muttered, already in the zone.

The other three watched her work in silence. For the first time, Sylvia allowed herself to feel apprehension for what was to come. She had no idea if the memories that would be returning would be pleasant ones, or if they would bring truths that she would rather not face. She turned to look at Mark and Gene next to her, and found them completely absorbed in each other, standing close together seemingly subconsciously, with matching expressions of an emotion that even she could recognise as devotion. With a brief pang, she wondered if there was anyone in her life who looked at her that way.

She turned back to Dorothy, a brief smile from the younger woman reminding her that whatever the next moments would bring, some things would not change. And whatever her past was, it had to be better than this limbo they were trapped in.

It had to be.

 

* * *

 

Mark knew he should be worried. In just a few short moments they would all be getting their memories back. That could mean anything. He should feel terrified about what he might remember.

And yet he felt… calm. Serene even. He had deduced enough about himself to know that that certainly wasn’t his default state.

Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that soon this entire nightmare would be over. That could certainly explain his happiness. But deep down he knew that this feeling had nothing to do with their circumstances, and everything to do with the man next to him. The man whom he loved, and who loved him in return. The man who was his.

It was a strange thing, to know something to be true even without any tangible evidence. He supposed that this was what it meant to have faith. To believe something so utterly, even without proof, even against all rationality. Another thing that certainly shouldn’t come naturally to him.

And yet here he was. He believed. Without fear. Without doubt. He wasn’t worried about what his memories would bring.

He wasn’t worried. Not even a little.

“Okay everyone, this is the last circuit I have to disable. Is everyone ready?” Dorothy said nervously.

The other three nodded.

Dorothy, her body trembling, but with steady hands, bent down over the device once more. “Okay, here we go.”

 

* * *

 

Michael Burnham remembered a life of loss and learning and love.

She remembered the parents she had lost so young, their faces vague and blurred in her memory.

She remembered her adopted family. She remembered learning the ways of Vulcan; science and logic and reason being the paramount goals of her upbringing. She remembered, after all her efforts, how hard failure had stung her, how it had crushed her hopes of ever earning her father’s approval, much less his love…

She remembered the Shenzhou. The ship, the crew, and the… the _captain_. The place where she had felt she belonged more than anywhere in the universe, with the people she loved.

All gone.

The pain that came with that memory, and the guilt, almost tore her apart.

She remembered the deaths of 8,186 souls, all lost because of her. She felt them like a weight upon her spirit, dragging her down, pulling her into the depths of despair.

_Please…make it go away. Make it stop. Make me forget again. I want to forget. Please…_

But then she took a deep breath.

She remembered those long months locked away, feeling so lost, coming to terms with what she had done. She remembered being offered a shot at redemption and grabbing hold with everything she had. She remembered getting her second chance, breathing new life into her battered soul. She remembered the feeling that came with finding a new home, a new purpose, and a new friend even. Maybe even friends.

_Maybe even love._

And she remembered the parting words of her captain, who had trusted her with everything, and perhaps would trust her still, even now. She could see her face clearly in her memory, a face that offered… understanding? Empathy? Maybe even forgiveness. Maybe.

In the span of a heartbeat, Michael Burnham faced all her demons once more. She survived them. She endured them. And then she rose beyond them once again.

 

* * *

 

He remembered Hugh’s name first. Even before his own.

He supposed that shouldn’t really have been surprising. Throughout it all, every time he had looked at the doctor, it had felt as though his name were hovering somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, desperately trying to burst its way in. When the floodgates opened, of course that was the first thing to come through.

_His name is Hugh Culber. My dear doctor. The love of my life._

Compared to that piece of information, his own name seemed irrelevant.

What Paul wasn’t prepared for was the feeling of utter relief that came with the return of his memories. Every memory just felt _right_ somehow, as though it slotted into place perfectly, to make him exactly as he was, exactly the person he was. A complete recipe.

Not all those memories were pleasant, of course. There were memories of violence, loss, and pain. A war that was tearing apart everything he thought he knew. Memories of a crippled ship, bodies lying in the dark, the mangled corpse of his colleague, his dearest friend.

But after all that, the better memories came through. Memories of science and discovery, seeking out the wonders of the universe. Long hours lovingly tending to mushrooms, searching for the foundations of life. Research papers and reports and presentations and the endless slog of scientific advancement, all of it worth it in the end.

And then there was a café on Alpha Centauri. A rude exchange, which turned flirtatious. Banter and wit and attraction morphing into love and devotion. A solid, gentle, unchanging presence by his side always. Always.

Paul Stamets looked with gratitude upon his life. And in that moment, he found that it had never seemed so precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucy? Updating her fanfiction in a reasonable amount of time? It's more likely than you think...
> 
> Thank you so much for the incredibly positive response to the last chapter! Your comments mean the world to me! I hope this chapter is equally as satisfying :)
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	14. Hypotheses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No need for the reminder, we're no longer using their made up names ;) 
> 
> Thank you again to @30MinuteLoop for beta-reading!

Remembering took very little time. It had been only a few seconds since Tilly had disabled the last circuit, but for each of the four people in the room, those moments had been packed with years of reclaimed memories. Now, all of them stood there, blinking at each other, remembering themselves, and remembering each other.

Michael recovered first, unsurprisingly. “Tilly, whatever you did… it worked.”

_ Tilly. Sylvia Tilly. My friend Sylvia Tilly. _

_ (She kissed me. Why did she kiss me?) _

_ Focus. _

“Um… yes. Yes, I guess it did,” Tilly replied. Michael thought she could detect a shade of pink in her friend’s expression, and deduced that her thoughts were not far from her own.

_ Focus. _

Michael turned to Hugh and Paul. “Are you both okay?”

_ Doctor Culber and Lieutenant Stamets. Hugh and Paul. My colleagues. My… friends? _

The two of them exchanged a long glance, and appeared to communicate for a few moments in the way that only intimate partners could; non-verbally, but still implicitly understanding everything the other was thinking and feeling. Only their eyes betrayed the depths of their emotions as they regarded each other, clearly trying to ascertain for themselves that the other was alright.

“Yes,” Hugh responded to Michael’s question. Paul just nodded, now staring at Michael as though he were seeing her in a whole new light. Michael looked away self-consciously.

_ Focus. _

“Okay, I think it’s safe to assume that the rest of the crew have also had their memories returned, but we have a new problem,” Michael said, indicating the device that had been the cause of the entire situation. Before, the device had seemed innocuous. Intimidating, but unremarkable. Now, with her memories returned, it was familiar, in a way that was disturbing in its implications.

“Right,” said Paul warily. “That’s a Starfleet jamming device.” The four of them looked down at the familiar sleek design.

“How could a Starfleet device do something like this?” Michael wondered. The knowledge that their own technology (or at least something that looked like their own technology), had been used in such a manner was deeply disconcerting.

“It couldn’t,” Tilly replied, grimly examining the wiring inside of the casing. “The origin of this thing is definitely Starfleet, but the internal modifications are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s definitely not Federation technology, at least no technology that I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

Michael began to speak. “We need to…” but before she could get any further she was interrupted by a voice over the comm system.

_ “To all hands, this is Captain Lorca. All crew-members on the bridge have regained their memories, and we are assuming the same is true for the rest of the ship. If anyone is still affected by the phenomenon, please contact the bridge. If anyone has any explanation for the return of our memories, they are ordered to report to me IMMEDIATELY. Bridge out.” _

The four of them looked at each other, slightly worried.

“We did just save his ship. He could at least sound happy about it,” Paul muttered.

“Do you think he’ll be angry that we shut him out?” Tilly said, slightly fearfully.

“I’m sure once we explain our reasoning for not informing him of our actions, he will be understanding,” said Michael, though truthfully, she felt slightly unsure.

“He’ll probably want to know how the device ended up on his ship,” said Hugh, who had gone over to the nearest terminal. With a swipe of his fingers on the screen, the manifest information began downloading on to the PADD in his hand.

“Good thinking,” said Michael. “Tilly, can you move that thing safely?”

“Yeah, it’s harmless now. But the technology inside is still intact, so we can study it later.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.”

On the way up to the bridge, Michael tried to get her whirling thought processes and emotions under control. She was finding it surprisingly challenging to reconcile her memories of the people next to her with the people she had spent the last few days collaborating with. Before this, her and Stamets’ relationship, while having moved beyond the initial hostility, had been no more than professionally cordial. She had only spoken to Culber a couple of times, although he’d always been friendly. But the last two days had changed things, at least for her. She’d been friends with Mark and Gene; she’d really cared about them. Could that friendship last now that they remembered who she was, and what she had done?

And then there was Tilly. Tilly, who was her only true friend. Tilly, who had been accepting of her presence on this ship when very few others were. Tilly, who was kind and courageous and supportive, even without her memories. Tilly, who cared about her, perhaps more than Michael had realised, although she couldn’t be sure…

Michael was jolted from her reverie by Paul’s voice. “Something wrong?”

She turned around to see Paul looking at Hugh, who was in turn frowning down at his PADD as he read the manifest information.

“It says that the device came onto the ship as part of the salvage from the wreck of the USS Excalibur,” Hugh replied.

Michael cast her mind back. The Excalibur was a ship that had been destroyed by the Klingons a week or so ago, all hands lost – the usual story. The Discovery had been assigned to do the ‘clean-up operation’ on the debris; a rather sanitary description for what was often a horrific process. It involved salvaging any and all usable Starfleet technology from the wreckage (with resources stretched as thinly as they were in the war, Starfleet couldn’t afford to let anything go to waste), but also involved recovering any remaining organic remains, so that they could be identified and sent to the families of the fallen.

In the case of the Excalibur, the explosion of the ship had been so powerful that all lifeforms had been vaporised, and only a few mangled hunks of debris had remained by the time the Discovery got there. Including, apparently, this device.

Michael caught on pretty quickly. “Do you think the Klingons planted that thing in the wreckage?”

“That seems most likely,” Hugh replied. “They planted a device that would effectively cripple us, but wouldn’t appear dangerous to any of our scans. A device that’s based off of our own technology so they could be sure we’d pick it up. That’s a smart move.”

“But why?” Paul asked, “To destroy us? Seems like a pretty convoluted way to accomplish that.”

“I think it’s more likely they were intending to take advantage of us in some way,” Michael speculated. “If the Klingons had approached us while we had no memories, we wouldn’t have recognised them as enemies. Perhaps they were hoping they’d be able to get on the ship, steal our technology, or intel.”

“But then why  _ didn’t _ they approach us at any point?” Tilly asked, as they entered the turbolift that would take them up to the bridge.

“Maybe because they were expecting to be dealing with a warp ship?” Paul speculated “We’ve jumped since we salvaged the Excalibur; probably the Klingon ship assigned to follow us wasn’t able to locate us after that?”

“Well…” said Michael, as the turbolift opened onto the bridge, “we’ll see what Captain Lorca thinks of our hypotheses.”

Resigned to their fate, the four of them headed to the ready room to face their captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, and the comparatively short chapter BUT there is good news! I have finished the rest of the story! There are two more chapters (and and epilogue) left, so there should be a much shorter wait for the next chapter :) We're coming into the home stretch people!
> 
> As ever, please leave comments/feedback!
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	15. We did good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to @30MinuteLoop for beta-reading!

It was some hours later, and all-around Michael and Tilly, the ship and its crew were slowly getting back to normal. There was a palpable sense of relief in the air, so different from the fear and isolation of the last few days. In the mess hall, friends were reuniting, laughing, recounting stories of their periods of amnesia, already treating it as something that could be looked back on humorously. That was the Starfleet way.

Captain Lorca had listened to their explanation and taken it surprisingly well, to all of their surprise. He had ordered all four of them to write individual reports on how they had located and deactivated the device, which would be sent to Starfleet along with the device itself for further examination and testing. He’d then dismissed them, having neither congratulated them on their efforts nor reprimanded them for disobeying orders. They’d felt that they’d gotten off lucky.

Paul had addressed Michael as they waited for the turbolift.

“So…” he said, looking incredibly awkward. “Thank you. For everything. You… you did good, Burnham.”

Michael stared at him, surprised, but replied as evenly as possible. “ _We_ did good, Lieutenant Stamets, but… thank you.”

Paul smiled at her tentatively, and Hugh stepped forward to squeeze her shoulder gently. Tilly watched the scene, smiling. It seemed her friend was finally being accepted.

Hugh and Paul had then excused themselves to go back to their quarters, and Michael and Tilly had headed straight for the mess hall, the lack of proper sustenance over the past few days finally having caught up to them. Now, they sat at a table together, both of them typing on PADDs as they ate.

Tilly finished describing the circuits she had disabled to deactivate the device, and then immediately yawned quite noticeably.

“You should get some sleep,” Michael said, looking up from her own PADD. “It’s been a tough few days.”

“Oh, no, I’ll be okay.” Tilly replied, smiling brightly. “It’s important that Starfleet gets this information as soon as possible. Besides, I’ve had the luxury of sleeping in my own bed these past few nights – I’m pretty sure we’re the only two people on the ship who actually slept in the right quarters.”

Michael nodded and bent down over her PADD again.

Tilly moved to do the same, but then hesitated. “Uh, Michael?”

“Yes, Tilly.”

“Uh… I wasn’t sure if it was worth mentioning but… I’m still missing a couple of hours memory. The last thing I remember before all of this happening was going to sleep in our quarters. But when I became conscious with the amnesia I was in Engineering, with Lieutenant Stamets, so I’m just not quite sure where the intervening time went and I don’t know if it’s a problem, but…”

“Tilly,” Michael cut off her rambling comfortingly. “It’s okay, I lost a couple of hours as well. I’m pretty sure everyone has. The last thing I remember before this all began is going up to the bridge to speak to Captain Lorca and then after that, I just remember waking up in our quarters. I’ve already thought about it, and I think it simply means that there was no way of preserving our short-term memories at the moment that the device was activated. The memories of events immediately preceding the activation never had the chance to become long-term memories, so when the device was activated we lost those memories forever.”

“That makes sense… well, hopefully nothing too important happened in that time, right!”

Michael smiled. “I think we’d know if it had. But I’m going to talk to Doctor Culber about it. See if he agrees with me and if there’s anything we can do to retrieve those memories. I think it’s unlikely though.”

“Right… well, as long as it’s not only me…”

Michael’s smile grew fonder. “Don’t worry, Cadet. You’re just fine.”

Tilly beamed. “Lieutenant Stamets was right, you know. You did good. You saved us.”

Michael shook her head. “It was a team effort.”

“But you were our team leader! We would never have been able to do it without you! I mean Lieutenant Stamets and Doctor Culber might have been able to figure it out eventually but they were pretty distracted, if you know what I mean. And as for me, I probably would have just curled up in a ball somewhere and freaked out if I hadn’t had you showing me the way…”

Michael frowned. “You sell yourself short, Tilly.”

“Well, maybe. It’s hard for me to trust myself, when you’re not around. Maybe that’s something I should work on. But regardless, it’s like I said, you’re a great leader! It’s easy to see why you were such a good first officer before…”

Tilly broke off suddenly before finishing that sentence and looked down, mortified.

“Tilly…” The cadet looked up to see a well of uncharacteristic emotion shining in her friend’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Tilly smiled back. She wasn’t sure she was ready to talk about everything that had happened during the amnesia, and so far, Michael hadn’t mentioned it. She internally debated whether she should just come out with it, confess her feelings. Before, she had only suspected that she might have some more-than-platonic interest in her friend, but this experience had made her certain. But she wasn’t sure if Michael was interested in her in that way.

_Just say something. Tell her how you feel. Say you like her. Say you lo-_

“Hey, guys, what’s up?”

Tilly was jolted from her thoughts and looked up to find the tall figure and kind face of Lieutenant Ash Tyler standing over their table.

“Mind if I join you?” he said.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Michael responded. And the look in her eyes…

_Right. She likes him._

Michael probably didn’t know it herself yet. But Tilly knew. Tilly could tell from her friend’s expression how she felt. And she was pretty sure Lieutenant Tyler felt the same way.

And she wasn’t going to get in the way of their happiness.

Swallowing her emotions, she listened as Michael and Ash struck up a conversation. And in her mind, she tried to reassure herself.

_It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just a crush. You’ll get over it soon enough…_

 

* * *

 

“You know, Tilly was actually pretty close.”

“Hmm?” Paul looked up absent-mindedly from the bed, where he was reclining, drafting his report on his PADD. Hugh was over at the desk, watching him fondly.

“With your name, I mean. The name she chose for you. It was pretty close.”

Paul scoffed. “In what way is ‘Mark’ close to Paul?”

“Same number of letters, one syllable, second letter is the same.”

“Is that all?”

Hugh grinned “They’re both very old fashioned.  _Biblical_ even.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Technically, my family is Jewish.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault your parents named you after a New Testament figurehead.”

“They named me after a member of the Beatles, as you well know.”

Hugh laughed and nodded in acknowledgment.

“She got it pretty close for you as well,” Paul continued, grinning slightly.

Hugh raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“She called you Eugene.” Hugh continued to look confused. Paul’s grin widened. “Like _Hugh_ -Gene, my dear doctor.”

Hugh groaned. Paul couldn’t help but laugh at the pain in his expression.

“That was awful.”

“That was genius, and you know it.”

“Yes, your genius has already been well established, love. Even with amnesia you like to remind people of that fact.”

Paul hummed in agreement, and looked down at his PADD again. Hugh continued to regard him, remembering their conversation in sickbay. It was bizarre, trying to think about the whole affair now. It just felt so strange, in retrospect, that there had been this short period of time when Paul had felt like a stranger to him.

Although… he hadn’t really. A part of Hugh had known. Even then.

“That was kind of nice, you know,” Paul said suddenly.

“What was?”

“When we met each other in sickbay after we lost our memories.” Hugh realised that his partner’s thoughts were aligned with his own. “It was like we got to have a... a _second_ first meeting. I mean, how many people can claim that, right?”

Hugh recognised the sincerity in Paul’s tone. Still light, still playful, but with the added weight that told Hugh he meant it. Hugh stood up slowly and walked towards Paul lying on the bed. He sat down, taking his hand, and gazed into his partner’s eyes.

Paul continued slowly. “It’s just kind of nice to know that, well… _this…”_ he gestured between the two of them, “us being together… it’s not just a one-off you know? I mean I’ve always wondered whether it was just luck that brought us together the first time. But then… despite losing our memories, we still ended up finding each other and falling in love with each other and choosing to be with each other all over again. And I can’t help but feel like that _proves_ that we’re…”

“Meant to be?” said Hugh softly, his eyebrows slightly raised.

Paul scrunched his face up. “Ugh.”

Hugh broke into a wide grin. “Admit it. That’s what you were about to say!”

“No! Shut up.”

“Paul Stamets,” Hugh continued unrelentingly. “Noted proponent of science and rationality. Believing in destiny! Who would have thought?!”

Paul rolled his eyes, but couldn’t contain the fondness that radiated from his expression. “I do NOT believe in destiny,” he said indignantly. And then, his voice softening, his hand rising to cup Hugh’s cheek, he said, “I just believe in you.”

There was nothing Hugh could say to that, so he leaned forwards and kissed him. He let it draw on and on, and into it, he tried to pour all of the feelings he could not put into words.

_My love for you is greater than the sum of our experiences. Unbreakable and eternal. Meant to be._

When they finally pulled apart, Paul smirked slightly. “Hmm… guess I should say disgustingly sappy things more often, dear doctor…”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Hugh replied. “Just don’t stop being prickly. You know I love that too.”

“I’m not _that_ prickly…”

Hugh raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Are you not forgetting our meeting in sickbay? You somehow managed to be every bit as rude as our _actual_ first meeting.”

“Hey! That is not true.”

“If anything, you were even ruder,” Hugh said, a slight twinkle in his eye. “At least in that café you were only insulting my humming ability and music taste. This time I believe you were casting aspersions upon my skills as a doctor.” Hugh sighed and raised his eyebrows in mock affront. “My chosen profession!”

“We had amnesia, Hugh! Besides, I think I came around to you pretty quickly.”

“Hmm, far too quickly, remember?”

“I have no regrets.”

Hugh leaned his forehead forward so it was resting on Paul’s. He felt his partner sigh in contentment. “Neither do I,” he said, lovingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the penultimate chapter! The final chapter (and epilogue) have been beta'd and edited and will be posted together at 11pm BST tomorrow! 
> 
> Comments/feedback continue to be greatly appreciated!
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


	16. The Wolf in the Herd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @30MinuteLoop for beta-reading

Captain Gabriel Lorca sat in his office, pondering his destiny, as well as his flaws.

He was a flawed man - he acknowledged that. He wasn’t the kind of person to hide from the truth. He was much less flawed than most, of course; he was as close to the Terran ideal of purity as it was possible to be. Whatever flaws he had, he made sure to keep them well hidden. Only those that could project strength and perfection to the people around them could ever hope to have the power to lead the Empire.

But only a fool fails to acknowledge their own flaws within themselves. How else could they control them, reign them in, so they don’t become their downfall?

Impatience. That was his flaw, the source of all his defeats. His coup against the Emperor could not possibly have failed, if only his impatience had not blinded him to Stamets’ inevitable betrayal. That mistake had cost him the Buran, and trapped him in another universe.

And now, his impatience had almost led him astray once again. He should have known that Michael was not ready for the truth. She had been so blinded, so brainwashed by this universe’s perverse ideology, it would take a long time for her to understand. But once she did…

She would join him. He knew that for sure. She would have no choice. He knew her innermost nature better than she knew herself.

It was hard though, to wait. Seeing her every day, remembering how she had been in his own universe, remembering their time together…

He wanted her. Even more than he had wanted the first.

And so, in his foolishness and his impatience, he’d given himself away. He’d made an advance on her, one that she’d recoiled from immediately. He should have known she wasn’t ready. She needed time. She would come to him herself. Eventually.

Thankfully, she’d been so shocked that he’d been able to stun her before she could make a move for his phaser.

He couldn’t risk her remembering that, of course. Couldn’t risk her becoming suspicious, or worse, feeling compelled to leave. She simply needed to forget.

He’d been lucky again. He’d already had the memory jamming device – the technology was Terran, of course. He’d been able to modify a Federation device several months ago just in case something like this happened. He couldn’t refine it, unfortunately, so it would have to affect the memory of the entire crew - except himself, of course - and while everyone was flailing around trying to get their memories back, that gave him enough time to fabricate a paper trail to provide a plausible explanation for how the device came on board. The Klingons, along with the recent destruction of the Excalibur, had provided a useful scapegoat. And he knew that most importantly, Michael would lose a few hours memory, so she wouldn’t remember a single thing he had told her. All he’d had to do was transport her back to her quarters.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t had time to cover his actions completely. He hadn’t counted on Michael finding the device and returning everyone’s memory so quickly. She’d had help of course. Stamets and Culber, who were quickly becoming his least favourite people on this ship. And the perennially annoying red-haired cadet. When she’d first arrived on his ship, he couldn’t believe that this was what Sylvia Tilly had become in this universe.     

If he’d just had a little more time, he could have covered his trail beyond any plausible doubt. Still, he knew that anyone figuring out the truth was a long shot. It certainly wouldn’t occur to anyone in Starfleet to suspect anyone other than the Klingons - wars were convenient like that. All things considered, he’d been very lucky.

Except… It wasn’t luck. There was no such thing as luck. Was it luck that had him transport to the Buran the moment it entered that ion storm? Was it luck that brought him to this ship, the one ship in the fleet with the ability to get him home? Was it luck that brought Michael to him, again?

Not a chance. It was destiny, the hand of fate which had guided him his entire life. It would not lead him astray now.

He just had to be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read on for the epilogue...


	17. Epilogue

In the small hours of ship’s night, Hugh lay wide awake, unable to dispel a gnawing anxiety deep within him.

He could make out the faint silhouette of Paul curled up next to him, sleeping soundly. Usually the sight of his partner safe and relaxed and sleeping in their bed brought him comfort. Tonight should be no different, especially after everything they’d been through. But still… something felt wrong.

It was such a small thing really. Just the tiniest suspicion, an instinct backed up by virtually no evidence. There was nothing he could prove. Everyone had accepted their explanation of how the device came to be on the ship. Hugh had accepted it himself, had believed it sincerely.

He'd only noticed later that there was a gap in the manifest information. All the standard official documents were there, with the records of the device being transported to the ship with the rest of the salvage, and then transported to science lab for analysis.

Except… there was no medical report. It was standard procedure that everything that was beamed onto the ship, organic or inorganic, was first screened by the biofilters in the transporters to check for any hostile bacteria or viruses. And that process created an automatic report which was  _ always  _ attached to the manifest information.

No one else had noticed that the medical report was missing. It was hardly relevant to anything that had happened. But, as a doctor, and out of habit, Hugh had automatically checked the medical report when he was writing his own report to Starfleet. And it hadn’t been there.

The missing report couldn’t have been the fault of some forgetful ensign. It could have been a systems malfunction, but surely there’d have been some indication of that. Or it could have been an administrative error, or some kind of file corruption, or… or…

_ The documents could have been forged. _

That thought should be absurd. And yet, to his great unease, he found that he couldn’t dismiss the possibility. He could see the documents in his mind’s eye, seemingly completely genuine, with the Starfleet insignia at the top and the captain’s signature at the bottom.

_ It would be so easy for him to implant false records into the ship’s systems. He has all the ship’s access codes. His own signature. Everything he’d need. But he wouldn’t… he’s a Starfleet captain, he wouldn’t… _

And then a smaller voice, deep down.

_ Yes, he would. _

A rush of fear, like ice in his veins, flooded through his body. In his nearly twenty-year service with Starfleet, he’d been in some terrifying situations. But he’d never before felt so profoundly  _ unsafe _ as he did now.

Hugh rolled over, and his gaze fell on Paul again. And even amidst his fear, Hugh felt such an intensity of feeling rise within him, that thrill in knowing that Paul was  _ here _ , and Paul was  _ his _ . His to love, and cherish, and protect.

And protect him he would. Hugh may not be able to do anything now. He couldn’t prove anything. Not to Starfleet, and not even to himself. But under the cover of darkness, enveloped in the presence of the man he loved more than anything, Hugh Culber made a promise.

_ I’ve got my eye on you, Captain Lorca. And if you try anything to hurt Paul, or anyone on this ship, it won’t be Michael leading the mutiny this time. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Please let me know what you thought about the ending/the story as whole, now you've made it all the way to the end!
> 
> Okay time for me to gush. I am as proud of this story as I have ever been of anything I've ever done (and I have two degrees, so, you know, clearly I need to get some perspective). If someone had told me a year ago that not only would I become an avid reader/writer of fanfiction, but I'd actually complete a 20,000 word short story I would have looked at them with disbelief. I mean, this ended up the same length as my thesis (more or less), which was hell, and then I just did this for fun?? That is a testament to how much I love Disco, and our beloved Culmets of course <3
> 
> Anyway, I just wanted to thank everyone who has supported me through this, including everyone that has commented/kudosed/bookmarked/shared, you all gave me the motivation to keep going with it, even through the longer delays! Special shoutout to everyone on the Discord, you guys are the best!
> 
> And a final special note of gratitude to the wonderful @30MinuteLoop, who has been an incredible beta-reader for the entire process, and whose suggestions have made the writing SO MUCH BETTER. Much love and appreciation Erica x 
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive or my new Culmets sideblog @singasongofculmets


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